All language subtitles for The Inspector Lynley Mysteries.s04e02.In the Guise of Death1

Leave me alone, Stephen!

Get off me!

It's good to breathe Cornish air.

How long you staying down for?

Haven't decided yet.

Is Helen coming?

It's rather complicated.

Tommy! Well, about Helen.

Please, not a word to mother.
The more you keep her in the dark,

the worse her suspicions will be.

Just until I'm ready for
the barrage of questions.

Sister's honour. Please. What?

I just made that up. Promise me?
I promise.

You said mother's been struggling
to look after the estate.

She seems perfectly fine to me.

Yeah, because she does
a good impersonation of a swan -

beautiful feathers above the water
and madly paddling feet below.

Penellin hasn't been here for months.

Looking after his father. We spoke.

But when he comes back....
When? If! Increasingly if.

His father has Alzheimer's. Oh.

Even so, you know...

SIRENS WAIL IN DISTANCE

I wonder what that's about.
Get on! Go!

Lord Asherton?
Please, Inspector Lynley.

DS Tremayne, Howenstow CID.

Bit galling you got here quicker on
horseback than I did in the motor!

I was riding nearby with my
sister when I saw the squad cars.

The officer on the scene asked me
to look. How long would you say

he'd been hanging there?

I tend to leave that kind
of thing to the path boys.

But if you had to put £10 on it,
based on your experience in London.

If I had to put £10 on it,
I would say not more than 24 hours. That's cheating!

My constable said the groom
last saw him 24 hours ago.

It's not cheating,
it's called prudence.

I knew he had money problems,
but I...

well, just never thought... Judith?

I'm just going there.
Back in a minute.

Detective Sergeant Tremayne,
my sister Judith.

A terrible shock for her,
finding her boss like that.

What is this? Suicide? We don't know

yet. We haven't anything to go on.

With all due respect,
WE haven't got anything.

I've got a corpse with a cut
forehead, hanging in his stable.

Yes, of course, I'm sorry.

Who was he?
Stephen Fenner. Small-time trainer.

Was on a winning streak a few years
ago when he bought this place but according to his groom,

things haven't been going well
recently.

Sir? We've found something.

Flesh, blood and a bit of skin
by the look of it.

It would appear Mr Fenner was
rather a fan of Japanese whisky.

So, what? He tanked himself up
on Dutch courage, stumbled, and banged his head on the table?

Hence the gash on his forehead.

But if he succumbed to the booze
in here, he's unlikely to make it

to the far stable,

rig up a noose and stool,

and dispatch himself so cleanly.

Unless the noose and stool were
already in place. Then you'd only

have to get there and climb up.

I suppose his determination
to do the deed could have allowed him to manage that.

Some people only have to look at
a wine gum before they feel tipsy,

others can manage the high wire
on a litre of Vodka.

So...suicide?

It certainly looks that way to me.

OK.

What? Well, it...

Sorry, but
if it was my investigation

I'd still treat it as a crime scene
for now, until the pathologist says otherwise.

It's...always easier to scale down
later than it is to scale up.

Inspector?

OK, so I'm inebriated enough to be
very wobbly on my feet, particularly

after the fall in there.

But I'm still hell-bent
on self-annihilation.

So I stagger over to the house
and head straight towards...

the stable block.

Hopefully,
leaving some nice muddy footprints.

Well, there's been a lot of traffic
through here. What about these?

Yeah, yeah, possibly.

So I veer slightly en route
to the stable, not surprising considering the condition I'm in.

And on I go...

What is it?

Looks like I had a second stumble.

It looks like a handprint.

Yeah. I stumble, put out my hand

and break the fall.

I didn't notice either of
Fenner's hands being muddy.

Well, could have wiped them
on something in the stable.

There's nothing in there except

Fenner and a knocked-over stool.

Did you see his clothes?
Fenner's clothes were clean.

All right, well, we can move on
to the next possibility.

Which is? It's not Fenner's hand.

Must be someone else's.

Judith, how is she? She's perked up

now her boyfriend Lachlan's arrived.

You couldn't do me a favour,
could you?

Take the horses home?
Tommy! I know, I know... I'm down here to see mother.

But it'd be stupid to be
on the scene and not try and contribute something.

The police can do perfectly well
without you. I'd like to have a word with the groom.

You wouldn't sit in, would you?
I'd value your opinion.

Of course. Thanks.

Just a couple of questions, Moira,
then you can go.

Wouldn't it be better to do this

some other time? For Moira, probably.
But not for us.

Sorry, love.
I'll be all right, Lachlan. Sure?

Right, Moira. As Stephen Fenner's
head groom, you probably saw more of him than anyone else. I s'pose.

Is there anything in his business
or personal life that would lead him to take his life?

Not really.

I mean, he had money worries.

But then he's had money worries
as long as I've worked for him.

Which is how long? Two years.

Would you know if they've got worse
recently? Well, I haven't been paid in a month.

I tell Moira she's stupid to stay,
but working with horses is her life.

Anything else you can think of?

However trivial it may seem
to you...

He was pretty upset about Artemis.
Artemis?

He's a National Hunt horse
he bought about two weeks ago.

Stephen thought he'd be the answer
to his prayers. Cheltenham we hoped.

And, much like the man himself,
wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

How so?

Turned out it had navicular disease.
Come again?

It's a severe inflammation
of the navicular nerve and

the area surrounding the hoof.

Some horses never recover.

It would've been catastrophic
in Fenner's game.

That's brilliant, Moira. Now,
I want you to think one last time.

I know you're doing your job, but he
already asked her one last time.

Is there anything else you can think
of that might've been troubling him?

No. I'm sorry. I wanna go home.

OK. Thanks, Moira.
You've been a lot of help.

I'll go and wait in the car.

The image of him hanging there will
be with her for the rest of her life.

If she thinks of anything,
ask her to call me.

Fenner treated his staff
like the muck they spent

most their time shovelling.

Not paying their wages you mean?

Not just that. What then?

Nothing. No, speak your mind.
If you've something to say,

Lachlan, now's the time to say it.

What type of people tend
to like working with horses?

Young women. Young women like Moira.

Are you suggesting...? Fenner was
an unpleasant, dirty old man.

Probably topped himself
in a moment of self-awareness.

I've got a job to get to. Can I go?

You always could have, Lachlan.
We were interviewing Moira.

Thank you for your time.

Inspector Lynley? Moira.

Lachlan said he told you
about Fenner being a bit of a letch. Yeah, he mentioned it in passing.

Well, I just wanted to let you
know that...it's nothing to make a big deal about.

No? No. I mean he'd slap you on the
bum occasionally, or...you'd catch

him looking or whatever, but...

you never felt threatened.

Sexual harassment
can build over time.

I know. But this was
more pathetic than anything.

I guess what I'm trying to say is,

you just got used to it.
OK. If you say so.

Lachlan just shouldn't have
mentioned it. Thank you for coming over to clear that up. It's OK.

Very impressive!
How much did you see?

Enough to treat you
with more respect next time!

As long as no-one attacks me faster
than a tortoise, I'm bloody lethal.

Considering you've
only trained for two weeks, you're remarkably accomplished.

Mostly thanks to this place.
Money well spent. Glad it's been of use. Of use?

I'm thinking of getting someone
to shoot me again so I can stay!

The retreat has been amazing, sir.
Thanks for recommending it.

No thanks required, Havers.

How did you know about it?
My mother's been there.

She read a book on holistic medicine
and can't stay away. I thought it'd be up your street. How is your mum?

Annoyed with me for working
while I should be on leave.

Working? Something's come up
at the neighbouring estate.

I'll tell you later. I don't want
you running yourself ragged... Sounds interesting!

I could do with a challenge to
get me back in the swing of things.

It's very nice of your mum to invite
me back to the family pile for a few days.

She thought it would be the perfect
end to your time in Cornwall.

One thing - she doesn't
call it a "pile". It's a house.

So we tend to call it a house.

Right.

How've you been keeping? Me? Fine.

And Helen? Fine.

So everything's basically fine.
Everything's basically fine.

Word of advice, sir.

When your mum asks, you'd better
have a better lie than that.

Sergeant Havers!
Lovely to see you again!

You too, Lady Asherton.

Judith. This is DS Havers.
Havers, this is my sister Judith.

Hello. Have you got a first name?

After boarding school, he doesn't
hold much truck with them.

Barbara. Hello, Barbara.
Oh, thanks. Is Peter here?

No. He's still not well.

He's in rehab, but mother doesn't
like to say that.

Do you ride, Barbara? What?

Horses! No, there's not much

call for them in Acton.

No, I don't suppose there would be.

Tommy's great grandfather.
Fine looking chap, isn't he?

Yeah, he is.

Unfortunately,
something of a pig when alive.

Really? Mmmm. Two people attended
his funeral, including him.

The other was the
officiating pastor.

I've always kept him there to
remind the children it's not who

you are that counts, but what.

How's your room?
Oh, very comfortable. Thank you.

I imagine that working so closely
together you and Tommy must share

a few confidences.

We're pretty stretched time-wise.

But you know his wife lost the baby?

Yes, of course.

How is Helen, do you know?

Um... It's just that whenever
I ring the house, all I get

is that infernal answer machine.

It's as if she's completely
disappeared. As I say...

I'm sorry. I'm putting you in an
awkward position. No, not at all.

I don't know any more than you do.

And if you did you wouldn't tell.

Probably not.

I appreciate your loyalty to my son.

Do you think you can amuse yourself
while I get on with supper?

Course. Can I help you with anything?

No, no, it's fine. Are you sure?

My dear girl, In my heyday
I used to knock up a banquet for 20 without breaking sweat.

So I ought to be able manage
a little supper for five.

Barbara! You know Judith,
and this is Lady Keach, Barbara Havers. Hello.

Nice to meet you.

Unless you want me to call you
Lord Asherton, my name's Sarah.

I'm sorry, of course.

I couldn't think of anything worse.
Me neither!

Another drink, Sarah?
Yes, a small one, please.

I'm in shock over Stephen Fenner.

Even though his house borders ours,
mother hardly ever knew him.

He kept his cards
pretty close to his chest. Did you know him well?

Our mutual interest in horses
brought us into contact.

Our paths crossed socially at times.

Would you say he was
the suicidal type?

Is there such a type?

He wasn't one of those people
who radiated joie de vivre, but not everyone does.

I got on with him perfectly well,
but I can't say that for everyone else around here.

Oh? How do you mean?
He wasn't exactly endearing.

He was plain spoken.
Didn't suffer fools,

and he showed little interest
in joining in,

which, in a small community,
can be a problem.

Apparently, he had terrible
money problems. Your drink Sarah.

Would you like to come through?
As they say in the best tennis clubs, "dinner is served."

Mother! That was terrible!

Sarah found it mildly
amusing even if you didn't! I didn't, and nor did he.

I'm up to date
with the injections, I'm immune.

Barbara's smiling. Oh, I thought

it was hysterical, Lady Asherton.

Thank you, dear. Come along.

You're too polite!

She'd never say it, but your
mother's anxious about your visit.

I gathered that. She thinks you and
your sister came to find fault with the way she's running the estate.

We haven't. We're just concerned.

She's a very independent woman.

I do know that about mother.

Your concern implies her days
of independence might be numbered. That's ridiculous.

You can see she's a million miles
from that.

It's frightening when your children
no longer consider you immortal.

I realise you're mother's friend.
And you are admirably protective toward her.

But neither Judith nor I want
to see her over-reaching herself. That's all.

Of course, if you were to come
back to Howenstow your fears would be eliminated in a stroke.

Unfortunately,
it's not as simple as that. Shame.

Come on, you two. No stragglers!

Very interesting woman.
And attractive.

I hadn't noticed. Of course not(!)

Just bear in mind, Tommy, that
the grass isn't actually greener

on the other side of the fence.

It's just a trick of the light.

Isn't there somewhere else
you'd rather be?

Mmm. Special Branch in five years.

Which is why I don't
want to miss a trick now.

Fine. We don't often see naked
ambition in this part of the world.

Rather refreshing.
Not too naked, I hope.

I like to think of it as ambition
with at least its pants on.

Good for you.
Ever watched one of these before?

I was present at the birth of
both of my kids, if that counts.

No. Suicide by hanging?
Certainly looked that way

when we cut him down.

Had my gut-full of these during
the foot-and-mouth outbreak. One a week at least. Often more.

So... Let's introduce ourselves
to our new best friend.

How do you feel
about large hypodermic needles?

As a rule, not good.
Then I should look away...now.

What is it?
It's Fenner's report, sir.

Could you leave that on my desk?

Brief change of plan.

If you want him revived, you'll
need Dr Frankenstein from next door.

Can we see if this cast is his?

Close. No cigar.

In fact, not even a cigarette.

A development? Just a little.

I'm sure you can manage
without me down here.

I'll give it my best shot(!)
No longer assume suicide.

I never assume anything.

I didn't say you can't cope...
Judith, did I say mother couldn't cope with running the estate? No.

I wouldn't expect you to be so crude
as to use the actual words, Tommy.

But the inference is plain
for all to see. No, I don't agree.

I'm simply saying it takes more to
run the estate than you can manage alone.

But I'm not alone. John does 90%

of the estate business.

And when he's not here he does 0%,
leaving you to do it all.

Well, most of the time he is here.

But the situation as it now,

John is away, with no idea
of when he might be returning.

Given that situation, you're
running the place single-handedly.

We're suggesting that's too much.

Don't you think you're
under-estimating your mother?

I'm doing no such thing.

Sounds exactly like that to me.

I'm simply looking
at the bigger picture.

But from your side of the gallery.

From her side the bigger picture
might look quite different. Aah!

I see why you invited her now!

She's an advocate. That's very
clever. Not an advocate, a friend.

MOBILE RINGS

What on Earth is that?!
My mobile. Excuse me.

I have told you before, I don't
allow mobiles at the dinner table.

Mother, I'm trying...
I don't care what you're trying to do! It's incredibly rude!

Go on, Tremayne. Sorry.

Yes.

Yes... All right, I'll be there.

Oh, Tommy! you can't...

I shouldn't, I know,
but I'm afraid I'm going to.

Mother, apologies...

Sarah, I have to go... Alone.

If he didn't have this damned job,
he might have a marriage worth the name!

Come through.

Sorry to bother you at this hour.
It's OK. Ashamed to say your call

came at just the right moment.

Oh, glad to be of assistance.

You were right about the handprint.

If Fenner had put his hand out to
steady himself, his would've left a much bigger impression in the mud.

Is that why you called?
No, not exactly.

I've also been speaking
to my chief about you.

Ah. Well, we don't get too much

of this sort of thing down here.

This is a murder investigation now

and he agreed it'd be useful to
have the benefit of your experience, if you were prepared to be involved.

He could always square it with your
guv'nor. Strictly speaking, I'm on leave to visit the family.

I'm a family man myself, so I
completely understand your position.

On the other hand, if there's a
murder in the next door estate, I

am delighted to help any way I can.

Thank you, Inspector.
Much appreciated.

OK, let's meet in the morning
and compare notes. Nine o'clock? In the harbour?

KNOCK AT DOOR

KNOCKING CONTINUES

Havers? Havers, wake up!

I thought you said we were
meeting Tremayne at nine?

Yeah, we are. So why've you got me
out of bed at seven?

Because a thought occurred
to me at 6.30.

Couldn't you have quietly
mulled it over to yourself?

No. Now come on, Havers, follow me.
See. Now you want my help,

it's "Bye bye, Barbara,
hello, Havers." Come on! Sir.

Is this where you played hide
and seek with Julian, George, Timmy and the rest of the Famous Five?

No, John Penellin has been aware
of some nocturnal activity on the land over the past months.

Teenagers snogging? Idiots making
crop circles? No - alien visitations!

Look, Penellin said he found
boxes of foreign cigarettes.

I was thinking, Fenner, our victim,
was drinking Japanese whisky.

So? Tremayne and I looked in his

drinks cabinet. There were 20-odd
bottles exactly the same, waiting.

What are you getting at?

Think, Havers,
what is Cornwall famous for?

Pasties. Yeah, well, apart from that.

Smoked fish. Forget the food!

I wish I could, but we came out
without breakfast. Smuggling.

Smuggling? Whenever you've got
a coastline like this,

and a population as happy on sea

as on dry land,

you get a thriving black market
in things washed ashore.

John Penellin suspects
local lads were using track

by our estate to get to their
drop-off point. And you think Fenner was a customer?

Maybe something more.

It's a bit early in the day
to go all cryptic on me.

Keep up!

This is all Stephen Fenner's land.

It's beautiful.

Forget about the scenery. Easy
for you to say, you grew up here.

If the locals are using this place,
could they do so without Fenner knowing?

The groom, Moira,
told me the business was in trouble.

Maybe he was letting this
place out to get some extra cash. He got greedy. Upped the rent.

Or even blackmail.

Sir...

That's Moira's boyfriend, Lachlan.

Well, well, well! Out of interest,

how much of this are we passing on
to local police? It's pure speculation now.

I'll keep it to myself
until I know anything more.

Come on,
we should be getting out of here.

Eager! He was up at six.

How come? He woke up with...
An overwhelming urge for a walk.

And an equally overwhelming
one for me to go with him.

This is my colleague, DS Havers.

Nice to meet you. Likewise.
Pathologist's report.

He must've been up all night. She.

In addition to a large
quantity of whisky in his blood,

he also had enough Phenylbutazone
in his system to make him question

which way was up.

Phenylbutazone? Phenyl-who?

Known as Bute,
it's a painkiller for horses.

No-one would put it in their drink,
unless... His whisky was spiked.

And so Fenner's drink is spiked,

he's carried to the stable,
and strung up to look like suicide.

Carrying Fenner would account
for the anomalous footprints.

Also the handprint.

I was role-playing the wrong person!

Instead of Fenner stumbling
with inebriation, I should've been Fenner's murderer,

stumbling with Fenner.
We also found this in his office.

What is it? Horse passport.

Why? Was it planning a break to the
continent(?) It's like a log book.

List of details - pedigree,

where it was born, previous owners,
when and where it was sold...

This one belonged to the
lame horse he bought recently.

If Fenner was doped with a horse
drug, we should pursue every equine connection he had. I agree.

Artemis was sold to Fenner by
Lawrence Chilcott. You know him?

By reputation,
he's a successful horse trainer. We've got Fenner's phone records.

There was a flurry of calls
between them in the last two weeks. Interesting.

Chilcott's yard's about ten miles
west. It can be our first stop.

Excuse me.

Yes... Right... OK...

SOCO have found something at
Fenner's. What? Too early to say.

I'd better go. Could you interview
Chilcott? Of course. There may be

nothing in it...

Bound to be some bad blood over
Artemis. No-one likes to buy a donkey for 80 grand!

Let us know. OK.
I'll drop you at the house.

Don't make me speak
to your mum all day!

Excuse me, I'm looking for
Lawrence Chilcott. He's just there.

Lawrence Chilcott?
I'm Inspector Lynley.

Bit out of your way, aren't you?

Pulled in for directions home?

Actually, I've come for some advice.
Oh, yes. What about?

Navicular disease.

Lot of people in the racing game
don't think there's any such thing.

Lot of people think it's a catch-all
for a number of conditions.

A horse's foot is complicated.
Any part can become inflamed for a number of reasons -

the individual anatomy,
or the ground they're running on. But you do know it exists.

You've sold a horse
with navicular disease.

Prove it. You sold a horse
called Artemis to Stephen Fenner.

Artemis had navicular disease.
But you disguised that with Phenylbutazone.

Is that what he's saying?
He's not saying anything much.

He was found hanging
in his stable yesterday. What?

Mr Fenner's phone records
show a lot of calls to you.

What did you talk about? Cricket?

I take care of my animals.

I noticed Artemis was tender
on her hoof, and gave her Bute for the pain.

I thought it was a twinge that'd

pass. And you told Fenner that?

He didn't ask. That wouldn't wash
in a Moroccan bazaar!

You hid the lameness to make the
sale. OK. OK, you want the truth?

It's always refreshing(!)
The truth is there's one born every minute in this game.

Fenner was in a hurry to buy.
I met his need. He wasn't thorough in his purchase.

He didn't have the blood checked,
he didn't bring a vet. What was I supposed to do?

Caveat emptor - buyer beware.

Quite right, Inspector. If he wants
restitution he can take me to court.

Oh, yeah! He can't. He's dead.

Are we done? Cos this conversation
is starting to bore me.

I think we should've told Tremayne
about seeing Lachlan this morning.

We? You're on leave.

There is no "we." OK.

You are supposed to be assisting
Tremayne on his enquiry, not running your own on the side.

Is that what you think I'm doing?

You're withholding information that
may be relevant, if not significant,

to the case.

Listen. When I first made Detective
Sergeant, I wanted more than anything to prove myself.

Tremayne's no different. I'm not
withholding information, I'm giving

him the chance to prove himself

without muscling in, and throwing up
possible wild goose chases. Sir...

For all we know, Lachlan went for
a walk this morning the same time

as us.

He happened to go to the
cove at the same time.

He went into the cottage,
which suggests he's using it.

Alternatively, he wandered
into a derelict cottage to take a call on his mobile out of the wind.

Ha! You don't believe that!

You're still on leave remember?
So you keep saying. Then back off.

What do you want to do now, sir?

I'd say open it. Yeah.

Open it. OK, ladies and gentlemen.

Place your bets. What do you reckon?

Cannabis. Havers?

The Holy Grail(!)

Nice. Mike?

Cheese sandwich.

And you're all wrong!

It is in fact an absolute
bloody fortune in euros.

So Fenner was actually loaded?
This makes no sense...

Fenner being loaded is one theory.

Inspector Lynley might have another.
Mightn't you, sir?

Helen's left him, hasn't she?

Ah, I don't know.
Oh, don't give me that!

I'm sorry, mother, we haven't talked
about it. Now that I don't believe!

OK. Yes, I asked after Helen and
received the same response you did.

Helen's fine, everything's fine.

And you believed it?

No. But I believe Tommy doesn't want
to be pressed on the subject so I decided not to.

It's just so hard watching him
holding everything in.

I agree, but if we respect his
feelings, what choice do we have?

You're right.
He'll tell us when he's ready.

Are you sure about this?

We saw Lachlan at the cove.

We saw him at the cottage. When
you go in, look at his watch. It's real. Expensive.

Expensive isn't the same as illegal.

If we can make a connection between
the money, Fenner's murder, and the smuggling,

we can start to build a case
against Lachlan. So we lay a trap?

Yeah. We have several possibilities.
If we prime him, he'll lead us to the right one.

I know, I know. I'm still on leave...

How would you play this in London?
Good cop, bad cop? High status, low status?

Softly, softly?
We'd knock on the door first. And then? Play it by ear.

My thoughts exactly.

Hello, Lachlan. Is Moira around?

Please keep your voices down.
Moira's asleep in the bed.

How is she? Took some sleeping

tablets last night. Poor kid.

You lot get time to compose yourself
before seeing something like that.

Moira just walked straight in...

We thought we'd drop by in case she
thought of something else overnight.

Afraid not. We interrupted your work.

No problem. I was on a break.

What is it you do exactly?
Something mechanical, obviously. I work the resorts along the coast,

repairing boats, patching up. There's
a lot of rich people in Cornwall,

driving boats they can't handle along
coastlines they just cannot navigate.

Always something blowing up,
or falling off.

And along you come with
a strong net and a big spanner.

I suppose. You must know the

coastline like the back of your
hand.

The backs of my hands are
usually covered in engine oil.

I grew up here and I still don't
know it. You know there's a cove on Fenner's land. Yeah. With a cottage.

I've seen it from my boat.
Strange though, isn't it?

What? With his financial situation,

you'd think he'd do it up to rent
it out to holiday-makers.

Make a fortune. Perhaps he couldn't

raise the money for repairs. Perhaps.

The roof is in pretty poor condition.
The timber's rotted. Tiles've gone.

You saw all that from your boat?

I must have.

Have you found out
why Fenner killed himself?

We've found out
he didn't kill himself.

But he was found hanging in the
stable. Moira saw him. She saw the overturned stool on the floor.

What she saw was the final tableau.
Someone was with him. He was drugged and then murdered.

Forensics are tearing
the place apart as we speak.

Good luck. Lachlan?

I heard voices.

Go back to bed, darling.
Oh, it's you.

She sounds just like my wife
after a long shift.

Yesterday, Lachlan,
you alluded to Moira suffering some sexual harassment at work.

Yeah, and I told you
yesterday it was nothing.

But it must have made you quite
angry? What are you getting at?

Moira's boss, leering at her
all the time, touching her up.

You must have felt him
a sexual threat.

He shouldn't have said anything!
It was nothing I couldn't handle!

I told you yesterday!

Moira... Shut up, Lachlan.
My apologies. I seem to have touched a raw nerve.

I didn't mean to start an argument.
There's no argument or raw nerve.

I handled it, OK? Like I said!

Talk about a cool customer!
What happened? Your boss looked him square in the face

and told him Fenner was murdered
and his place was being taken apart,

to which Lachlan says, "Good luck."

Did he give anything away? Not a
sausage. He's very cool. Too cool.

So we wait for him to come
for the money.

If it's his, he'll come when he
thinks the police have moved out.

You seem sure he won't leave it.

If he's involved in the murder,

he knows he can't afford to have
the police come back. He needs

to retrieve the money immediately.

I'm going to see when
we can pull out.

Visible enough to be noticed
but not attract attention.

Lights, no bells.

You look troubled. I was thinking

while you were in there,

whoever spiked Fenner's drink must
have known him well enough to do it.

I know that. Yeah, but...

I know that this black market's
really strong, but Bute is from the horse world, Lachlan isn't.

His girlfriend is though.

I'm not so sure, sir.
What are you driving at?

I don't think it's that simple.

Fenner was drinking contraband
whisky. He had £250,000 in euros

stashed away.

Lachlan appears to have been using
the cove, probably a smuggling operation.

You make the connections. What
about the connection with horses?

Fenner was immobilised by Bute.
Only someone who knows horses would be familiar with its effect.

So your question is who from the
horse world would want Fenner dead?

That's my second question. First,
who from the horse world knew Fenner well enough to have a drink with him?

Maybe Sarah Keach
can help us with that.

What? No.

I think it's stunning.
It could do with a spot of varnish. Against the rain.

It's driftwood, Havers.

The wood's natural response
to the elements that brings out its sense of vitality.

It won't be very vital if it goes
rotten, will it?

My late husband had it made
for our wedding anniversary.

Connor,
I'll leave your tea over here.

Thanks.

How long were you married?

He died in our tenth year together.

It's a beautiful house, Sarah.

Once the front garden's completed
it will be my vision of perfection.

But I'm sure you didn't come
to discuss aesthetics. No.

Pity...

We now know Stephen Fenner's death
wasn't suicide,

and we also know before being killed
he was drugged with horse painkiller.

You intimated the other
evening at dinner that...

Fenner put a lot of people's backs
up in the local equine society.

I was wondering if anyone in that
group might have a sufficient grievance to...

you're laughing. I'm sorry.

The idea that the local horse
brigade might be lining up to bump off Fenner...

But he was drugged with Bute.

He wasn't liked. But that's a
million miles from him being so hated that someone wanted him dead.

Yes, I appreciate that. You also

said your paths crossed socially.

On occasion.

Well, did he ever have anyone back?
Entertain at his home?

I don't know. I expect so. Do you

know if he had any enemies?

Not really. Sorry I can't be more
helpful. On the contrary, Sarah.

You've been more than helpful.
We'll take up no more of your time.

One more question... No, we're
finished, Havers. But... I said we're finished. Inspector.

Havers. Sarah.

That looks beautiful.
Excellent work, Connor. One more question, Lady Keach.

Sorry.
Lawrence Chilcott. Do you know him?

He's a local personality. Why?

Two weeks before Fenner died,
Lawrence Chilcott sold him a horse

which Fenner believed would
dig him out of a financial hole.

I don't understand why this is
relevant... He sold the horse

knowing it was lame.

One professional horseman who
knowingly sells a lame horse to another professional horseman is...

acting on a different level,
wouldn't you say? On a level

that's...

"I can get away with anything..."
Perhaps even murder?

In wild theory, perhaps.

In your dealings with Chilcott,
was there anything of a similar

nature?

Threatening in any way?

No.

He had a bit of a reputation
as a slippery customer.

But I can say I've never found him
to be anything other than pleasant

and businesslike.

OK, thank you.

I'm sorry.

Fenner being doped is taking us

nowhere except up a blind alley.

Which is possibly where
it was meant to lead us.

Until further notice, let's set
that aside and focus our minds

on Lachlan and the money.

The Bute was, after all, the means.

And money, in nine cases out of ten,

is the motive. Yes?

Yes, sir.

My people are ready to
ostentatiously pull out of Fenner's in a couple of hours.

Excellent.

Sir. There's Connor,
Lady Keach's gardener.

Gardeners are allowed a lunchtime
pint at their local, Havers. Just making the observation.

You don't get a pint
like this in London.

You're telling me!

Your name, Tremayne.

Cornish. That much is apparent.
What is also apparent is...

My accent?

Manchester? My parents moved
up there when I was eight.

But you came back.

Wherever we moved when I was
a kid, my roots were always here.

I wanted my kids to have theirs here
too. You're a traditionalist, Tremayne.

Just think it's important
to know who you are. Sir? I agree.

It's Lachlan.

Sir? Come on then.

This morning, he came round there and
went into the cottage. We didn't look

closer in case we alerted them.

I'd say they use the cove to land
the contraband, and the cottage to

store it.

Do you think this is where they'll
rendezvous with the money? Maybe.

If we aim to catch them at Fenner's,
we'll catch both them and the money.

Instead of grabbing them right away,
we follow them to the rendezvous,

we stand a chance of
catching the whole lot of them.

I admire your ambition,
but I think it's a bit risky.

It'll be almost impossible to
follow them unnoticed in daylight.

As soon if they spot us, they'll
head anywhere but the rendezvous.

You haven't seen me in stealth mode.

I'm sure you're preternaturally
discrete. Nevertheless...

I think we can do it.

And I think it's worth the risk.

All right. It's your call.

Nine tenths of this job
is knowing your own mind.

I think I do on this one, Sir.

He's a bit determined, isn't he?
He's got the scent now.

The Bute in Fenner's whisky puts
Chilcott near the frame, if not

completely inside it.

But we know Lachlan's involved in
smuggling. I sense there's more to

him than meets the eye.

With due respect, you sensing
Lachlan's behind it all isn't the same as evidence that he actually is.

Fair point.

But his guise of boat mechanic

is perfect cover for going
all over the coast all day.

And then at night he's a
Black marketeer. Word spreads.

Pretty soon he's a major player.

ON POLICE RADIO:

Quiet as a grave down here.
Anything your end?

You'll be the first to
know, Tremayne.

That's why we have walkie-talkies.

Just keeping you informed,
Inspector.

Sarge! You have guests, Lynley.

Repeat, you have guests.

OK, we've got a Land rover.
And what car does Lachlan drive?

A land rover.

He's stopped outside the stable.
He's getting out and moving directly to the target.

Sir, it's not Lachlan.
What? It's Connor.

OK, he's going into stable. Let's go.

What's that smoke?
The cove!

When the car comes, stop it.
I thought the order was to follow?

The order's changed. Stop the car.
Yes, sir! There's smoke coming from the cove.

I'm going to take a look. Wait for
back up. Wait for back up, Tremayne!

Tremayne! He's coming out
of the stable with the box.

What do you want to do?
Tremayne, talk to me!

ON POLICE RADIO:

Tremayne! Tremayne!
Wait for back-up! Tremayne!

The cottage is on fire!
Tremayne, wait for back up.

There's someone in there! Tremayne!
Sir, you go! Leave Connor to me.

Help me! Help! Hold on!

Lachlan. Hold on!

You all right?

Yeah, fine.

Help!

Tremayne!

Sir?! Havers, get an ambulance...

Request ambulance immediately.
Man down. Listen to me.

Come on, Tremayne.
You'll be all right.

You all right?

The pathologist thinks
that Lachlan received a blow to the head prior to the fire.

How humane of his killer
to render his victim unconscious before the execution(!)

Whether it was enough to
knock him out, we'll never know.

If he was conscious, it would
explain Tremayne's efforts to get in.

So if Lachlan killed Fenner
in a dispute over smuggling,

who killed Lachlan?

Connor? In an attempt
to take over the racket?

Money is usually the motive,
you said. Why settle for half?

That's assuming with Fenner gone,
it was a just two way split.

Someone else? Seems likely.

Come on, we should
get to the hospital.

Has he... Has he regained
consciousness yet? No.

I know this is no consolation...

but I think your husband is a very
fine police officer. Thank you.

But you're right it's no
consolation whatsoever. Excuse me...

Why were you so keen to play
down the way Fenner treated you?

What were you trying to hide?

Lachlan did a bit of stuff
with his boat out at Fenner's cove.

He called it importing.

Drink, fags, DVDs.

Didn't pay a great deal,
but got him through when the work weren't there.

I helped him with storage,
and flogging it.

I told him about the
cottage in Fenner's cove.

Like I said, we didn't make much,
but we got by and that was fine.

Fine for me. But not for Lachlan?

"Money equals independence,"
he said.

So once a month he'd take a box
out to a boat offshore, and exchange it for a another box. A box?

Mmm hmm... He did this for who?
I don't know.

And his box was stored
underneath Fenner's stables, yeah?

Most of the other stuff
was kept in the cottage.

But Lachlan said the boxes from the
boats needed somewhere more secure.

Did Fenner know?

He was being paid for
the use of the cove.

He was desperate for cash.
He took the money. So Fenner was

being paid for its use,

and for storing the boxes? Lachlan
didn't want anyone to know about the boxes.

Fenner didn't know about the hole.

I made it one night...with Lachlan.

Do you know what
these boxes contained?

No. Did Lachlan?

I don't know.

I don't think so.
He just did the drop.

He knew the identity of the

person he did the drop for? Yes.

Who was it?

I said I don't know.

Come on, Moira... I swear...

Was it Lawrence Chilcott? Chilcott?

Was it? Why do you say Chilcott?

Do you believe she doesn't
know who Lachlan worked for?

With Lachlan dead, she has no reason
to conceal what she knows. Unless she's involved.

In which case, she played the part
of grieving girlfriend impeccably.

Someone ordered those
boxes to be shipped out.

Connor makes an unlikely ringleader.
Yeah, but he must know something.

I've told you...
You don't know anything,

we heard. Do you think
you could get beyond that? Because that is negative thinking.

Get to things you do know, Connor.
Like what was in the boxes you and Lachlan exchanged once a month.

I don't know.
I just helped him move them.

I think you're lying. I think you
know full well what was in the box

you collected.

A quarter of a million pounds.
Quarter of a million?

Where were you
planning to go with that?

Nowhere. The person whose money
it was would've come after you.

I don't know whose money it was.
I didn't know it was money till you just told me! Lying again.

I think you knew about the money.
I think you killed both Fenner and Lachlan to get hold of it.

I've told you I didn't kill them!

Did Lawrence Chilcott
pay you to do it? Who?

We have a cast of a handprint
we found in Fenner's yard that matches your hand.

That doesn't prove anything.

I knew Fenner,
I've been to his yard.

You'd be amazed
how much forensic evidence can be retrieved from the site of a fire.

Now if we find anything, anything,
that suggests you've been to the cottage it won't look good for you.

We'll be able to place you
at the scene of both murders.

It's surprising how many years come
off a life sentence with a full confession.

Of course I've been to the cottage!

That's where we kept the stuff.

Who was in charge of the smuggling,
Connor? Who paid you to exchange

the boxes?

I don't know.

I was bottom of the chain.
That's the way Lachlan worked.

He said it was best if I didn't
know certain things. Safer if everything went through him.

I trusted him.

I told you before, if you're looking
for London, turn right and go until

you're knee-deep in eejits.

I'm arresting you on suspicion of
conspiracy to murder. You don't

have to say anything,

but it may harm your defence
if you don't say something you later rely on in court.

Anything you do say may be given
in evidence. What? You heard.

Let me know when his
brief arrives, yeah? OK.

Do you want me to talk to her?

No. I'll do it.

I just want to say how
desperately sorry we are.

Thank you.

Your husband
was an extremely good officer.

Very brave.

I don't know for certain,
I got there too late,

but I understand he was trying
to get into the cottage when he was hit by the blast.

I think he knew
someone was trapped inside.

Did he get them out?

No. In which case, he died in vain.

It's trying that makes us heroes,
not that we necessarily succeed.

Your husband was a credit.
A real example to us all.

He really relished working with you.

Transferring to London was his dream.

He'd have done extremely well
wherever.

My ride home... Yes.

Tell me, Inspector Lynley...

How do I tell my children that
the daddy they had breakfast with yesterday has gone forever?

I don't know. No... neither do I.

Give me an hour Havers.
What about Lawrence Chilcott?

Let him stew till
I'm good and ready.

Lynley! Lynley!

You have no right to hold me!

Lynley!

Mother? In here!

I'm just fixing some
Pimms for us all.

Us all? Sarah popped around to say
thank you for the other evening.

Aren't those flowers lovely?
Splendid.

Shall I make enough for you too?
By which I mean, are you going to

grace us with your company?

I need to talk to you.

Ha! Sure you've got the right word,
dear?

I was under the impression
you'd given up talking,

unless it was to that
wretched mobile of yours.

OK, OK, point very much taken...

If you want to talk to me
about the estate again...

Mother!

I should have said
something earlier,

but I wasn't sure

how much I wanted people to know

about Helen and me. I'm not
"people", Tommy.

I'm your mother. I know,
I didn't mean to exclude you, it's just with Peter back in rehab

and you looking after the estate
alone. I didn't want to burden you.

I know how much you worry about us.

You must have realised I'd
worry much more not knowing.

I'm sorry.

Perhaps my reticence to talk...

was also a question of
damaged pride. Or guilt.

In reality I have...

a sense...a very real sense...

that I have failed Helen.

She's left you?

We're temporarily separated.

Oh, Tommy!

I think we both need time and space

to get over the loss of the baby.

It was her decision to go,

and I'm prepared

to wait as long as
necessary for her to come back.

Do you think she will come back?

I have to hope so.

Thank you for telling me, anyway.

Sorry it took so long.

These things take
as long as they take.

Can you take this tray
out for me? There's a good boy.

I'm sorry I...

Of course, mother.

Judith and I were wondering
if you needed a hand, Dorothy,

but I see you have the long
arm of the law to help. Thought I'd grab him while I could.

Are you staying for a drink, Tommy?

I'm afraid not no.

No-one ever went to their grave
wishing they'd spent more time

at the office.

True. But the most important time in
a murder enquiry is the first couple

of days so...

I thought we were going to spend

some time with Tommy,
and we get Inspector Lynley.

He was the same at Eton. He'd come
home for holidays and we never knew

who we'd get -

carefree Tommy, or bookish Tommy.

My husband was an old Etonian.

Was he? Which house? Oh...

don't ask questions like that.

He'd go on about the place
for hours at a time, I stopped listening.

Was he in College? That's right.

Always admired the scholars. Don't
think you'd call Peter a scholar.

Really? He could never sit
still for more than an hour.

Don't think I ever saw him finish a
book in the time we were together.

Well, I'd better be off. Bye mum.
Bye, Tommy.

Sir! Good to see you.
I thought I'd lost you for a moment.

Are you all right? I'm fine.

How is Chilcott bearing up?

Stewing nicely. And you?

Are you bearing up? Me?

I'm fine.

I'm...fine.

You will tell me if you're not,
won't you?

Yeah, we should speak to Chilcott.

I think it's time to
bring him to the boil.

I don't know what you're talking
about. I think you do.

DS Havers here is convinced of it.

You can think what you like.

You got hold of Stephen Fenner,
a small struggling trainer

in comparison with yourself, but
competition nonetheless.

On his land is a nice, hidden-
away cove with an empty cottage.

Perfect for landing and storing
whatever you were bringing in.

But things get complicated
when serious money gets involved, don't they, Mr Chilcott?

Whatever you say, Inspector.

Well, you never really liked Fenner.

You sold him a lame horse.

Tried to mask the lameness with

Bute, but when he realises this,
he wants reparation.

He asks for more money to keep quiet
about your smuggling operation.

But then he gets greedy and asks for
too much, so you drugged him with Bute. Again.

And then you killed him.

Made it look like suicide. Rubbish.

But by now you think the
police might be on to you.

So you arrange to meet the one
man who knows the whole truth.

Lachlan. You arrange to meet
him at Fenner's cottage.

Where you kill him.

Try and burn the cottage.

But it wasn't just him you killed.

Detective Sergeant Tremayne
also died in that fire.

That's three murders you're
responsible for, Chilcott.

Three murders.

That's very good. I advise you
to say nothing. No, no, no!

I want to congratulate him for his
storytelling. Marvellous.

And completely and utterly
incorrect in almost every detail.

Almost? I didn't even

really sell Artemis to Fenner.

The horse's passport says you did.

Any idea how many Eastern European
horses get into the country on those passports?

Lawrence. I didn't smuggle anything.

And I didn't murder anyone.

All I did was sell a horse as
a favour to a friend. A friend?

Lady Keach. She wanted to give
someone a horse without it looking like a gift.

Lady Keach? She gave me a little help

to doctor the passport

so her name wouldn't appear on it.
For tax reasons, she said.

How much "help" did she give
to doctor the passport?

You tell me how much you earn and
I'll tell you. You're really in no

position to be cocky. How much?

Nothing so vulgar as
cash with Lady Keach.

If not cash? She has a rather
fantastic statue in her front garden.

She promised me it. Lawrence, say

nothing... I'm co-operating with the
police.

I've got nothing to hide.
I'm sorry. I don't understand.

Why would she give you a treasured
anniversary present from Lord Keach?

There is no Lord Keach!
Not any more, I know.

Not ever.

You really don't know anything,
do you?

Get me a copy of Debrett's Peerage.
Thought she was your mother's friend.

Mother took her under her wing when
she got here. She took her at face value.

Get me that book. Yes, Sir.

There was something she said
at my mother's this afternoon.

What? She said her husband
was in College at Eton.

That's no crime. Except
against the working classes.

She said her husband was in College
and I said how I'd always admired

the scholars.

OK... But then she said her
husband wasn't a scholar.

Barely read a book in his life.
OK, you're losing me.

If you're an academic scholar you're
said to be "in College."

Only the true scholars were in
College. So she made a mistake.

It's not a mistake anyone married
to an old Etonian would make.

Unless she was winging
it in the moment. Exactly.

Lord Kale.
Lord Karn. Lord Kassleman...

Well, well. No Lord Keach.

So, no Lord Keach, no Lady Keach.
And if no Lady Keach.

Then who the hell was at dinner the
other evening? I'll get her in and

find out.

No, you stay and pressure Chilcott.
I'll find out where she bought her title and pay her ladyship a visit.

Can I fix you a drink, Tommy?

No thank you. I'm on duty.

So it's not Tommy, or even Lord,
but Inspector.

Don't you find, Lady Keach,
that most of the time a title just gets in the way?

And yet occasionally
it can help to keep things clear?

It doesn't hurt when I want
to reserve a table in London.

Do take a seat. Thank you.

And if you call me Lady Keach once
more, I shall be forced to bop you over the head.

I'm sorry. Apology accepted.

At my school there were quite a few
titled boys, it wasn't anything anyone a fuss about.

Which was a blessing for me
really, because it meant I grew up

not making much of a fuss about
it either. What about your school? School wasn't a problem.

And when you got into the big wide
world, it must have become an issue.

In what way?

Well, I always find that people
think having a Lord or a Lady

involved in whatever it might be

brings added value.

Whereas in reality, if it were
the person behind the title,

then the opposite
would usually be true.

I take it you don't have
much time for London society.

I decided when I was in my early
20s that it was a treadmill with canapes, so consequently not for me.

It's not easy though,
just being oneself.

People often expect

the role rather than the person.

Personally, I can take it
or leave it. Being oneself?

I don't believe people have

just one self, Inspector Lynley.

Good point, Lady Keach.

Sarah!

OK, Sarah it is.

But it's not really Keach, is it?
And if we're being brutally honest,

it's not really Lady.

Is it?

How long have you known
her true identity? So you've done your homework then?

So you do know it? I know who she is.

Because you run the operation
together? I've told you before!

I'm not, and never have been,
involved in any kind of smuggling!

So she ran it alone? I've no idea.

OK. But from what you know of the
real person behind the facade, do you think she's capable?

That's for you to find out.

How did you find out?

You mentioned Lord Keach.

I've subsequently discovered
there was no such person.

This afternoon you said
your husband had gone to Eton.

I made a mistake, didn't I?
I'm afraid you did.

I panicked in the moment and gilded
the lily. I haven't done that for ages.

It must be you making me nervous.

Policemen often make
people feel like that.

When I buried my husband,
I decided to buy myself a new life.

A new life meant a new identity.

I thought about it for
a while, and decided it

would be fun to be titled.

Is that so terrible? If you have the
means and the temperament, why not?

I play the role of a baroness,
and to all intents and purposes I am a baroness.

We are who we pretend
to be, Lord Asherton.

You play the role of a police
officer and voila! You are one!

I don't play the role, Sarah.

I really am a police officer.

Given how much trouble I can bring
to your door for doctoring a horse's

passport,

I suggest you help me
find out sooner rather than later.

Her name is Sarah Marlowe.
Married to Duncan Marlowe.

Up to his death on the
Costa Dorada six years ago.

Stabbed outside a nightclub.

A consequence of his lifelong
career in serious fraud.

Why are you here?

You haven't actually said.

I'd like to know more about

your husband. Your late husband.

Anything in particular?

Why don't we start with how much

you learnt from him about fraud
and money laundering?

And then on to how you took over
form him where he left off, after

his rather gruesome demise.

Why did she give Artemis to Fenner?

When Sarah first moved into
the area, she believed he could be trusted with her real identity.

Only he wasn't.

And he saw how important her new
life was, and being the scum he was,

he tried to blackmail.

So he wasn't blackmailing you? No.

My husband was very
good at what he did...

He once told me he could take the
dirtiest ten pound note in the world and make it pristine in an hour.

But that's all he did. He
serviced crime, he didn't do crime.

Not a semantic
difference the law recognises.

He processed money.

He taught you how?

It wasn't difficult to absorb his
technique and if you know the right people, it's not rocket science.

And you knew the right people?

Businessmen. Bankers.
Lawyers. They were our friends.

We holidayed together.
Dined together.

After my husband was killed
they were only too eager to

help me re-establish myself.

Yourself, and your late husband's
operation, here in Cornwall.

I made one mistake.

I trusted Stephen Fenner with
my identity. She told me what Fenner was trying to do.

I told her to ignore him.
But she couldn't.

She paid him for a while,
then she'd had enough.

She asked what could settle

things once and for all. He said
he needed a top-quality horse.

That's where I come in.

But you gave him a lame horse.
He was a lame human being.

Was Fenner trying to expose you?

Was he blackmailing you?

Did you have Fenner killed
because he was trying to expose you?

No-one was meant to die.

Lachlan was only to scare Stephen
into leaving me alone once and for all.

The Bute was just to disorient him.

And if Lachlan hadn't delegated to
Connor, that would've been the outcome.

But Connor messed up.

I had no choice, I had to
draw every stump on the pitch.

Why waste a pearl on a swine? If you
had, he might still be alive.

As would the two other men who died
as a consequence. As your boss said.

"Let the buyer beware". You're a

real piece of work.

No. I'm a businessman.

Is that how you see Lachlan?
A drawn stump?

Is that how you see
Sergeant Tremayne?

Tremayne was in the wrong
place at the wrong time.

I can't tell you how
sick I felt when I heard.

But Lachlan wasn't was he?

He was in precisely the right
place at precisely the right time.

Where you told him to be! I wish it
could've been any other way. But he knew everything.

And I have learnt it's
sometimes necessary to read a situation without compassion.

We think Lachlan was still conscious
when he was consumed by that fire.

Feelings obscure clarity, Inspector.

I did what I had to do.

Do you think that's
going to stand up in court?

I've no intention of finding out.

It's over, Sarah!

The minute you get on that boat
I call customs,

then what?

Come on, Chilcott is talking to
Havers down at the station now.

Lawrence Chilcott is as
crooked as a pint arm.

Judge a person by the
company they keep, eh?

If only Stephen Fenner had
let me be who I wanted to be.

Put that gun down, Sarah.

If only people would leave other

people alone.

You made the decision a long time
ago to be the wife of a money launderer.

Do you really think
that entitled you to great wealth and peace of mind?

My husband was a financier.

He took money soaked in human misery
and rinsed it out for profit.

My husband was a wonderful man.

Death cancels out
everything but truth.

And strips a man of everything
but genius and virtue.

But of course, your husband
had no genius did he?

Or virtue.

He was just a ruthless criminal.

Like you.

You don't know me!

I know everything
I need to know about you.

I could kill you.

This day's been a long
time coming for you, Sarah.

My advice,

let it come...

Where's she going?

So let it come...

Thank you so much, Lady Asherton. You
couldn't've made me more welcome.

You couldn't have been a better
guest, I wish we'd seen you more.

Perhaps next time I'm on leave.

Barbara, you're one of
the family now. You know that.

Take care of yourself.
Thank you. I will.

Bye. We're all packed.

I hardly fell you've been here.
I'll come down again soon properly.

With Helen. If I can.

See you Judith. Bye. How long you
staying on for? Until John's back.

Take care of the old girl, will you?
Ah ah ah! I heard that!

You were meant to.

Now remember, you're a husband
first and a policeman second.

Yes. Be happy. Bye, mother, Judith.
Bye, Tommy.

If you want a few more days
at the retreat, I can drop you off.

No, sir.

Seatbelt. Yes, sir.

Subtitles by Catherine Weston
BBC Broadcast - 2005

Email us at subtitling@bbc.co.uk

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