Original subtitles

-"To whomsoever shall be the future possessor of this gem.

These lines are addressed in mourning

before he or she shall assume its responsibility.

"It will be packed in seven boxes

and deposited with my bankers..."

-Beshta soraca. Insalla om meraca.

Insalla om orca.

Soraca esta meraca.

-"...with instruction it is not to see the light again

until I have been dead 100 years."

[ Safe closes, lock clicks ]

"To whomsoever shall be the future possessor of this gem,

known as The Star of The Orient,

it is accursed

and stained with the blood and dishonour

of everyone who has ever owned it."

-Who'd like to do the honours?

-[ Gasps ] Me!

-There's something about the advent

that always brings out the inner child.

-No, not in my case.

My parents are both committed atheists.

-You didn't celebrate Christmas?

-Well, they made an exception for the King's speech,

which was considered suitably secular.

Right, Sister Peter, the stage is yours.

Drum roll, please.

[ Pats legs ]

-It's a...

holly leaf?

-Enh...

it's a turkey, I think.

-No! It's the manger.

Readied in preparation for the big night.

-If that's a depiction of a manger,

then God help baby Jesus.

[ Laughs ]

[ Organ music plays ]

-What time's your train? -2:30.

A flying visit to Oxford to play Santa Claus

and maintain my reputation as favourite uncle.

I'll be back tonight, Mrs. Clam.

Oh, and don't keep supper.

I'll grab a pie and a pint in the pub.

-Well, will the trains still be running in this snow?

Ooh! Note to selves, Dottie,

to fetch kerosene lamps from the allotment

in case there's another power cut.

-What's all this? You never usually get a tree.

-I confessed to Mrs. Clam that I've never had a real one.

-When it's just me and Dottie,

it hardly seems worth the bother,

but with you and Sergeant Livingstone here,

and him so far from his family,

well, we're going to pull out all the stops this year.

-I'm making a cassava pie.

Except the greengrocer didn't have cassavas,

so I'm using parsnips.

-I'm sure it's going to be delicious, Miss Thimble.

Are you sure you wouldn't rather spend

this time with your family?

-As much as I love my sisters and their husbands

and 6 children and 8 dogs --

or is it 8 children and 6 dogs? --

peace on Earth it ain't.

-We're glad you'll be here to keep us company.

-The four of us are going to have a very merry Christmas.

-Mm-hmm. -Ooh!

-[ Chuckles ]

-[ Laughing ] Oh, dear me.

That sounds all too familiar and brings to mind

the time she went up -- [ Knock on door ]

-You wanted me, Reverend Mother?

-It's your mother.

-Hello?

-I've broken my elbow. -Your mother

has broken her elbow! -And before you ask,

your sister is playing Nussknacker-Anzuege

at the Royal Opera House.

-Mrs. Daley has insisted on taking Christmas off.

Typical!

-And your father is incapable of boiling an egg

without burning the house down.

-Well, she's hardly better.

Do you remember the chicken-pot-pie inferno?

-Needs must, Malise.

-Or we wouldn't dream of asking you.

-Erm, well, I-I need to ask Reverend Mother

if she can spare me --

-Oh, I'm sure we can manage without her, Mrs. Bonham-Crane.

You leave it with me.

I'll make sure she's on the next train.

Ah.

-Sounds hopeful! [ Chuckles ]

Ow!

[ Carolers singing ]

[ Train brakes squealing ]

[ Children laugh ]

-"Big Chill!

Worst weather conditions on record"!

There you go.

"More blizzards forecast!"

[ Coins rattle ]

-Running away from the convent?

-Oh, very good.

No, mother's broken her elbow, so I'm needed at home.

-Ah, Christmas with your parents.

That'll be nice.

-Hmm.

Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Scrooge.

-Bah! -Bah -- and I cannot emphasise

this enough -- humbug! -Humbug!

-Anyway, where are you off to?

-Oxford. Dropping presents to the family.

-Well, how fortuitous.

We can share our journey as far as there.

Oh, and I have a picnic.

Courtesy of Sister Lawrence.

-Excellent.

After you, Sister.

-Goodbye.

I'm -- I'm sorry.

-You have the Robertson board meeting on the 28th.

I assumed you'd want to be there in person.

Lunch with Lord Goldsworth on 30th

to discuss financing for Buenos Aires.

I've prepared you a summary of the key points.

And the Prime Minister has asked you for

New Year's drinks at Chequers.

-Tell him no. Man's an idiot.

He'll only tap me for a donation.

-Soon have you in the warm, my darling.

-You're too sweet, Ranulph.

What would I do without you?

-Good afternoon, Sir Swinton.

I'm Fawcett, and it's my privilege to wait on you

for the duration of your journey.

-Henry Medwick. We spoke yesterday.

Can you show us where this is going?

-If you'd like to come this way.

-Cooeee!

Sir Swinton, Deborah Fitz D'Arcy.

I believe you are acquainted with my cousin,

Lady Violet Windermere.

Lady Violet was so sorry to hear about your accident.

You've been so brave, both of you.

Her words, not mine.

-Thank you. -Please excuse us.

-I see you have private accommodation

and would beg a favour.

First class is full, and the problem with second is,

one never knows who one might end up sitting with.

-Who is this woman?

-That won't be possible today, I'm afraid.

-You are required to verify delivery of the item.

And I'll be needing a signature.

Oh!

It's magnificent.

-I'll be happy never to set eyes on the damn thing again.

-The museum has organised a security escort

to meet you at Marylebone.

I must instruct you to set a new combination,

known only to yourself.

Please do not share this with anyone,

including members of your family.

-They're the last people I'd share it with.

-Then it only remains for me to wish you a safe journey.

-Goodbye, sir. Merry Christmas.

-And to you.

[ Door closes, lock clicks ]

[ Tumbler clicking ]

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Train whistle blows ]

[ Train whistle blows ]

-Stockings followed by morning carols.

Then back home for sherry and mince pies.

Present opening.

Lunch at 1:00.

And 3:00 Her Majesty's speech,

followed by tea and parlour games.

-I'm very partial to charades.

[ Gasps ]

-Well, I've no idea what that's supposed to be.

How many syllables?

-Oh, my!

-Lord, have mercy.

Avert your eyes, Dottie!

-He's definitely male.

-[ Scoffs ] Why have we stopped again?

I'm due at my cousin Lady Violet Windermere's.

She will be very inconvenienced if I am late.

-And where are you headed, Mr...

-Harinder Ray.

London Airport.

I'm flying home to Bangalore on Christmas Day.

So sadly, I'll be spending the day in the air.

-One would hardly expect you to appreciate a Christian festival.

-Actually, there are startling parallels

between the baby Krishna and baby Jesus.

Isn't that right, Mr. Ray?

-Gods born in human form,

endangered from birth because of their divinity,

hunted by murderous Kings.

-I'm going to find a guard

to ask how much longer we will be stuck here.

-Shortbread finger, Sir?

-Is there a newspaper at least to pass the damn time?

Bloody debacle.

A bit of snow and the government goes full-on headless chicken.

[ Whistle blows ]

[ Clattering ]

-Now, what the blazes?

-♪ The holly and the ivy ♪

♪ When they are both full grown ♪

Ta-da!

-Oh. -What do you think?

Is something wrong, Reverend Mother?

-Grave news from our Sisters in Wadi Fira.

"It is wonderful to hear of your plans in place for Christmas.

We regret our tidings lack seasonal joy.

The crops and livestock are ravaged by drought.

The nearest water hole now a two-mile walk.

Yet we are determined to celebrate

the birth of our Saviour.

We pray the bells of St. Vincent's ring out clearer

for our Saviour this year.

Enough food has been saved to ensure all the children

will have a meal on Christmas day."

-The poor souls. I'll pray for them.

-Compliments from Sister Lawrence.

She knows marzipan stollen is a favourite of yours.

-Eh, eh.

[ Whimpers ]

-Would someone care to inform me what's happening?

-The coupling snapped.

Maybe it froze?

-Why didn't they stop?

Oh, hello. Where did you spring from?

-Got off to stretch my legs. Then the train started to leave.

What happened? -It appears we're stranded.

-Not for long.

They'll soon realise they're a few carriages short of a train.

-And in the meantime?

Are we to freeze to death?

There's no heating or light in here.

-The Pullman has a generator.

We can move in there while we wait for help.

With Sir Swinton's permission.

-Sir Swinton?

-Fine. Just get on with it, man.

-And he was still wearing his socks!

-He was stiff as a proverbial!

-Ohh. [ Grunts ]

Apologies for the whatnot. Caught me mid dress rehearsal.

-We're all looking forward to heckling your uglier sister.

-Oh! No, you're not!

-Oh, yes, we are! -Oh, yes, we are!

-Why is CC Lowsley dressed like a woman?

-It's pantomime, Sarge.

The dame's played by a man

and the principal boy is played by a girl.

-Of course.

-So, what have we got?

-Yeah, er, male 50s to 60s.

No obvious signs of any injury.

-What did the Police surgeon say?

-Cause of death was hypothermia.

-And he was...naked?

-It's known as paradoxical undressing.

It's when the body temperature falls too low

it creates confusion and a sensation of overheating,

leading the victim to then removing their clothes.

-They weren't at the allotment, so he must have removed them

somewhere else before going there to find shelter.

-Poor fellow. Probably a vagrant.

-I hope this won't spoil plans for Christmas?

-I think not.

At present, the death seems rather unsuspicious.

Although we are yet to identify him.

-Well, I must away. The muse is calling.

-Merry Christmas, Sir.

-I sincerely doubt it.

Mrs. Lowsley's mother is spending the holidays with us.

[ Chuckles ]

-Problem?

-A letter from a supplier.

Bloody man's a professional complainer.

-Ah, don't panic.

I think there are some oil lamps.

If I can locate one, I can check the fuse box.

-Oh, I always keep an emergency box of matches to hand.

Um...

Let's see...

penknife...

ball of string.

Oh, I don't know what that is.

Oh, bingo.

-Ah. The generator's tripped.

Nothing to worry about. [ Clicks ]

-Nothing to worry about?

The train mysteriously de-couples leaving us stranded.

Then the power goes out. This is no coincidence.

-You think it's an attempt to steal...

[ Clears throat ]

-Do you mind me asking what you're talking about?

-What business is it of yours?

-Detective Inspector Gillespie, Great Slaughter Police.

-Come with me.

-See? What did I tell you? Paranoid.

-That's quite some security you have.

-It's a ruby weighing 50 carats.

-Ah. -Intriguing.

A priceless ruby vanishes from a safe

to which only Sir Swinton knew the combination.

-Could somebody have guessed it?

-Tell me you didn't write it down.

-Do you think I'm senile?

-The thought is increasingly starting to cross my mind.

-Could anyone have entered the Pullman

before the train was uncoupled?

-Not without us seeing them.

-Which means the thief is amongst us.

-I sincerely hope that I am not under suspicion.

Lady Violet Windermere is my cousin.

-I don't care whether she's the Queen Mother.

But I would like to know where she sprang from?

-I-I told you.

I got off the train to stretch my legs.

-I will be interviewing everyone in due course, including Miss...

-Cooper. Carol Cooper.

-How do we even know that he is a policeman?

Any Tom, Dick, or Harry could fake a warrant card.

-Well, I may be able to offer some reassurance on that score.

Along with credentials of my own.

A very nice piece by Norman.

I was going to show you, but I thought you might --

wouldn't...

Anyway, here's your proof in black and white.

The Orphans Christmas party.

You know, there aren't many men

who can pull off a pair of green tights.

-As you may have deduced, Sister Boniface is well known

to the Police in her capacity as the --

-Vintner of St. Vincent's.

We're wine makers.

And the police are our most valued customers.

-Your employer is Chairman of Usher Industries.

And his son works for the company as well?

-He holds a managerial position in a subsidiary company.

Ranulph didn't inherit his Father's appetite for business.

He's always been too busy chasing the ladies.

-Hmm.

I understand the company is having some problems.

-Oh, it's a temporary downturn. Nothing we can't weather.

-"We"?

-I-I didn't mean...

I know the inner workings of the company better than anyone,

having been with Sir Swinton for 18 years.

I know what you're thinking, but his bark is worse than his bite.

I've become very fond of him.

-Oh, is the jewel insured?

-For £3 million.

But only until it arrives at the British Museum.

Sir Swinton is gifting it to them on permanent loan.

-That's quite some bequest.

-Sir Swinton is a very generous man.

-How old are you, Carol? -16.

-And why are you travelling to Cholsey?

-To spend Christmas with my aunt.

-Do you have an address?

-20 Earlsfield Avenue.

-This ticket is only one way.

When are you planning to come back?

-Well, what with the snow and all,

we -- we decided it better to wait.

-Thank you. That's all for now.

-Fawcett. Stanley Michael.

35 Nelson's Road. Chipping Campden.

My credentials and letters of authority

for your information.

I'd keep my eye on the Indian fellow if I were you.

-We bring bad tidings.

The bells have frozen.

-There'll be no ringing out on Christmas morn!

It's like the bloody war all over again!

-We know it's your favourite part of the day.

Reverend Mother?

-God works in mysterious ways.

Thank you for informing me.

Is there anything else?

-You're taking this much better than we thought.

-Exactly how did you think I would take it?

-Well, not like this.

-Personal effects, Sarge.

One pair of socks.

-They're clean and they look new.

I-I don't think this man was a vagrant.

Um, any luck finding his clothes?

-No, no, not yet. But it's pitch black out there.

We'll search again when it's daylight.

-Okay. And put an enquiry out for missing persons.

It's Christmas.

We owe it to his family to identify him.

-The case of the unclad corpse.

Where's Sister Boniface when you need her, eh?

-Oh!

-What are you playing at, Sister?

-I deemed it prudent to remain "undercover."

Being associated with the Police has a tendency

to make people clam up as I'm sure you are aware.

-Well, no offence, Sister, but you are a terrible liar.

-None taken.

It is rather contrary to the job description.

But under the circumstances, I'm sure I can improvise.

So, what did you discover?

-Right, Sir Swinton Usher,

Chairman of Usher industries,

travelling with his son Ranulph --

bit of a disappointment by all accounts --

his daughter-in-law Abigail and his secretary Jean Smythe.

The Steward, Fawcett, he was hired by the security company

in charge of transporting the jewel.

And Hari Ray's passport and plane ticket verify his story.

-What about young Carol?

-Hmm. Something doesn't add up there.

Oh, and sorry. -Oh, sorry.

-Usher Industries

is in financial trouble according to reports.

Which begs the question...

Why would you donate a jewel worth £3 million to a museum?

-Damned if I did, damned if I didn't.

-Oh, here we go.

-I'd never heard of it.

But then last year, I received an unknown correspondence

about a bequest from a great-great uncle

with me as the next direct descendent in line.

[ Electricity crackles ]

With it were two letters.

-"To whomsoever shall be the future possessor of this gem.

These lines are addressed in mourning

before he or she shall assume its responsibility."

[ Indistinct whispering ]

"Known as The Star of The Orient,

it is accursed

and stained with the blood and dishonour

of everyone who has ever owned it."

[ Indistinct whispering ]

"My nephew Colonel William Usher of the Bengal Cavalry

won it in a card game in a Bombay gambling den."

-For you, my darling.

A gift.

-"After which he brought it home

and presented it to his wife."

[ Indistinct whispering ]

"From that time, misfortune attacked him."

[ Bell tolling ]

"The loss of his wife and child,

followed by a series of financial setbacks."

-[ Sobbing ]

[ Sighs, sniffles ]

-"All the while plagued by unsettling visions

of a horned wraith.

Convinced the gem was responsible,

he sold it to a jeweller,

only for the buyer to return it

claiming it was haunted by an evil spirit."

-[ Screams ]

[ Gunshot ]

-"Two days later, he committed suicide.

And the jewel passed

into the possession of his brother Julian,

who, himself being convinced of its malevolence,

cast it into a river where it would never be found."

[ Indistinct conversations, laughter ]

"Weeks later while hosting a dinner..."

[ Indistinct whispering ]

"Shortly after, the East Wing

was razed to the ground in a fire,

claiming his life and those of his family.

As his uncle, the jewel passed into my reluctant possession.

Convinced it can neither be sold nor disposed of

without risk to my life and those of my family...

I am having it exorcised."

"After which it will be packed in seven boxes

and deposited with my bankers,

with instruction it is not to see the light again

until I have been dead 100 years."

-And in the other letter?

-From William Usher to his brother.

-A ghost story worthy of Messers James or Collins.

-Do you think I wasn't sceptical?

When Abigail asked to borrow the jewel

for some fancy party, I agreed,

little knowing what would happen.

-I'll thank you to keep my wife out of your crackpot theories.

-It was an accident.

Driving home after the party, a stag ran in front of the car.

I lost control and hit a tree.

We were both nearly killed,

and a head injury caused me to lose my sight.

-You say it was a stag.

-Oh, the horned wraith.

-Oh, don't be ridiculous. -It's not ridiculous.

It's the first sensible words she's uttered.

-It was 300 pounds of prime venison.

Not some ghoulie or ghostie or long-legged beastie.

-Belief in the supernatural is integral to my culture.

-Oh, ditto.

What is God if not a supernatural entity?

-I believe the perpetrator to be far more human.

But there's nothing to be done now.

I suggest we all try and get some rest until help arrives.

-Does anyone know where we are?

-♪ My gift is you ♪

-If you're waiting for Inspector Gillespie,

he didn't come home last night.

-Maybe he decided to spend the night at his sister's.

-If that were the case, he would have telephoned and told us.

-This is the BBC News. -It's Christmas Eve!

There is a tree to decorate, stockings to fill,

and, well, he jolly well better be back in time

for midnight mass, and I sincerely hope

he isn't going to wreck our Christmas plans

for some fancy woman.

-Mrs. Clam. -...was missing four carriages.

A spokesman for the railway said, "We are making

strenuous efforts to find the missing passengers.

But a search operation is severely hindered by the snow.

-Nonetheless..." -Wasn't that Sam's train?

-"...we are confident it's only a matter of time."

-Between Little Sockford and Belbury.

-Well, that's at least 30 miles. Cross-country.

-And the snow ploughs are unable to get through.

-So, with Gillespie AWOL, that leaves you in the driving seat.

So, any luck identifying our John Doe?

-No missing persons reports have been filed locally

or by adjacent police forces.

-Post-mortem report is in.

-Oh, that was quick. -It's not very long, Sir.

-Oh.

-Death by hypothermia.

-It's such a relief.

My family were so worried I'd be working over Christmas.

-Look at this.

Do you see these marks around the mouth?

-They look like burns.

-I have seen this before.

A kidnapping in Bermuda. The victim was chloroformed.

I think our man was knocked out, then his clothes removed,

leaving him to freeze to death.

This is murder.

-Splendid!

-Well, for you.

First murder flying solo.

Chance to cover yourself in glory.

I'd better telephone Mrs. Lowsley,

tell her I won't be home for dinner.

♪ La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la ♪

♪ Comfort and joy! ♪

♪ La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la ♪

-My first murder case and I can't even identify the victim.

I'm hardly covering myself in glory.

What do you think Sam would do if he were here?

-Well, there's a Christmas wassail on at the pub,

so I reckon he'd be in the Spitfire.

-Opening hours aren't till 11:00.

-Oh, it's Christmas, Sarge.

-And that is why, Peggy, you are the best WPC in the county.

Come on.

-A search turned up nothing.

Hardly surprising when we're looking for

something the size of a walnut.

-And whoever had the ingenuity to steal it

certainly has the ingenuity to conceal it.

-We only have Sir Swinton's word that it was stolen.

And a £3 million insurance claim would give his company

a much needed cash injection.

-Yes, but why go to the charade of donating it to a museum?

-I don't know.

And this story of a curse is hard to swallow.

-His fear seemed genuine,

although seemingly not shared by his son.

-Hmm. He seems more concerned about his wife.

-Maybe not that concerned about his wife.

-[ Sighs ]

-Problem?

-A letter from a supplier.

Bloody man's a professional complainer.

-Go on.

-Curiosity is a sin. -Noted.

-And it was only an inadvertent glance.

-Do you remember what it said?

-"Darling soul. Still no reply to my last letter,

so I'm blaming the filthy weather.

Something terrible has happened.

Ronald has been posted to Bogota in the new year.

I'd rather die.

Say the word and we can escape

somewhere warm and sunny and be anonymous.

I'm in agonies of despair till you say yes.

Please write back. Ever your devoted, Helena."

Well, that was the gist of it, anyway.

-An inadvertent glance?

-I have somewhat of an eidetic memory.

-Of course you do.

Well, if he was running away with his mistress,

he'd need some cash.

And I have a feeling that his father keeps him

on quite the tight rein.

-Inspector. We have a problem.

The generator only has enough fuel for a few hours.

-We're on a railway line.

There must be a telephone on the tracks,

somewhere we can call for help.

-Army man, Sir? -Fusiliers.

-Army Catering Corps. Corporal.

Permission to accompany you.

There's no knowing what you might encounter out there.

-West it is.

-It's a beautiful day. -Mm.

I feel snow coming. -Oh, yes, quite right.

And there are snow clouds.

-I think it's true what they say about losing one's sight

and the rest of your senses compensating.

I hear more, smell more, taste more.

Feel more.

-Steady on. There's a nun present.

-[ Chuckles ]

-I'm quite unshockable.

Although I confess this jewel theft has left me rather shaken.

Have you a theory as to how it was taken?

-Well, it's obvious.

He must have written down the combination

or told someone and then forgot.

-My father's age is catching up with him.

Why else would he believe the ramblings

of some batty Victorian ancestor?

No doubt who was high on opium,

penning his fourth-rate ghost story.

-The accident didn't change your mind?

-The only thing cursed was our marriage.

The irony is, it took all this to bring us back together.

-Oh, isn't it wonderful to see such a devoted couple?

And after all you've been through.

-Oh.

-Oh, you're cold, Mrs. Usher.

May I escort you back?

-♪ I've been a wild rover for many a year ♪

♪ And I spent all my money on whisky and beer ♪

♪ And now I've returned with gold in great store ♪

♪ And I never will play the wild rover no more ♪

♪ And it's no, nay, never ♪

-Gentlemen.

-♪ No, never, no more ♪

-Gentlemen!

-[ Whistles ]

-[ Shouts indistinctly ]

[ Singing stops ]

-We have a problem.

-We're not here to read the riot act.

Are we, Sarge?

-Well, I'm assuming, Susan, you have a permit

to be serving alcohol outside of licencing hours?

-Oh, are you? -Yes, yes.

-Okay, look, look.

We need your help identifying this man.

His body was found yesterday.

Do any of you recognise him?

-Arg. Surra am gutten at boos.

-Did you see where he went, Tom?

-Arg. Ud Bassy Bur.

-That's very helpful, Tom.

Wishing you all a happy Christmas.

-What did he say? -He went to Miss Thimble's café.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

-Well, there's a turn up for the books.

-[ Mumbles ]

[ Singing resumes ]

-[ Mumbles ] -[ Coughs ]

-I expect you have a theory as to how the jewel was stolen.

-I don't think it was spirited away by some ghost

if that's what you're talking about.

-Ah, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

That's Shakespeare.

Pick up all sorts in this profession.

I come from a long line of "silver servicemen"

as we like to call ourselves.

My grandfather was a waiter on the Titanic.

He died a hero's death.

My father was doorman at the Ritz.

And our son Clive's just become an airline steward for BOAC.

His mother and I were bursting with pride.

The first flying Fawcett.

-Hallelujah!

-Sisters. I have something to impart.

Yesterday I was visited by the Holy Spirit.

The silencing of our bells is no coincidence.

It is a sign of God's disapproval.

That whilst we gorge on festivity,

our African Sisters starve.

-It's a sign it's five degrees below freezing.

-Should we say a mass for them?

-We must do more than that.

I propose a seasonal fast in solidarity.

Nothing but bread and water should pass our lips.

-You want to cancel Christmas?

-Well, I'll leave that to your individual consciences.

However, we are a democratic community here.

So if anyone wishes to dissent?

-Reverend Mother, i-it's only one day.

-That's the attitude!

Sister Peter is an inspiration to us all.

Anyone else?

Good. So all this must come down.

This is a period of reflection and not of celebration.

-And Merry Christmas to you, too.

-It's snowing again.

-We're one missing.

Has anyone seen Miss Fitz D'Arcy?

-She said she was going for a walk.

I hope she hasn't gone too far.

It's getting worse out there.

-What's that?

Miss Fitz D'Arcy.

Is she...

-She's dead.

I need to you step away from the body.

-Is that blood? Why is it that colour?

-Fetch Sister Boniface. -Sister Boniface?

-Uh...

This woman obviously needs prayers.

-Right.

...but the cable had been cut.

And worse, then we found her body, Miss Fitz D'Arcy.

Murdered.

-So we have a missing jewel, a dead woman,

and the telephone lines are down.

Is there any good news?

-Don't shoot the messenger, Sir.

-How did she die? -I don't know.

But there was something unnatural about it.

H-Her body looked as though somebody had laid it out,

and her blood was bright pink.

-What are you doing?

-Someone will need to inform her relatives.

There may be something in here.

An address book or...

It's from Lady Violet.

"Dear Cousin Deborah, I'm sorry

to hear of your situation, and I'm able to offer you

the position of housekeeper companion

on a salary of £5 per month plus board.

Please find enclosed a 2nd class ticket."

-Not so hoity-toity after all.

-Poor woman.

-Poor enough to resort to theft?

-You're not suggesting that Miss Fitz D'Arcy

stole the jewel?

-And if she's the thief, then who killed her?

-Who or what?

[ Camera shutter clicks ]

-Nifty, isn't it?

The very latest photographic technology.

I thought it might amuse my parents.

They're quite a tough audience.

Peel it apart, will you?

-I only left you for a couple of hours.

Now I've got a corpse to add to our troubles.

-Cause of death is a puncture wound to the stomach.

She bled out.

-Why is the blood pink?

-Extreme cold causes the erythrocytes to haemolyse,

causing the extreme change in colour.

-Care to have a stab at the murder weapon?

-Oh!

-Too obvious?

-It wasn't a knife.

There's an abrasion rim, radial tears.

I'd say we're looking for something sharp-ish

and cylindrical?

-Time of death?

-Well, there's no rigour mortis,

and the body still feels somewhat warm,

allowing for peripheral shutdown due to blood loss

and the extreme temp--

About 30 minutes.

Presenting a conundrum.

Because during that time, everyone was on the train.

-Are you sure? -Quite sure.

How intriguing.

In addition to an impossible theft,

we now have an impossible murder.

-Stabbed?!

By who?!

-When?

-Given the body was still warm,

I estimate within the last half-hour.

-But we were all on the train. -What about the blood?

He said it wasn't natural.

-My father thinks Miss Fitz D'Arcy stole the jewel

and was slain by an avenging genie.

-T-There's a perfectly good scientific explanation for that.

The extreme cold causes the erydodytes to molecurlarise,

meaning the blood looks salmon pink.

-Well, that makes perfect sense.

-Which brings me to the very unsupernatural conclusion.

We have a stowaway.

-What have we got here? -Stay back!

-Inspector, Inspector! We got him!

-Stay back!

-Police. You're surrounded.

There's no need for anyone to get hurt.

Now drop the weapon.

What's your name?

-Nicholas Foster. -Is that blood on his shirt?

-No. I do-- I do-- I don't know where it came from.

-It came from the dead woman. You nicked the jewel.

She must have seen you, so you killed her.

-What have you done with it?

-I'm not a thief! I didn't kill anyone!

-Permission to beat the truth out of him, Sir.

-No! -Someone grab her!

-Enough! No one is getting beaten up.

Now you come with me, and you,

and we'll finish this off in private.

-I expect you'll be testing the stains to confirm if it's blood?

-Can you do that?

-Yes.

Right.

-Perhaps I can bring you a clean shirt.

-What if they try to make a run for it?

-Where would they run to?

-Don't you remember him coming into the café?

-I didn't recognise him with his clothes off.

-You weren't looking at his face.

So he wasn't a vagrant then?

-We're treating it as a murder investigation.

-But it's Christmas Eve. -We know.

So if there's anything you remember

which could help identify him?

-He had oxtail soup and toad in the hole

followed by Bakewell tart and custard.

The bill was 5 shillings and 8 pence

and he didn't leave a tip.

-And this, the season of giving.

-Then had the cheek to ask to use the telephone.

-I hope you gave him short shrift.

-I said it was out of order,

and I directed him to the nearest telephone box.

-Bravo, Dottie.

-What time was this?

-Just as I was closing up at 5:30.

Thank you, Miss Thimble.

You've been very helpful.

I'll get onto the telephone exchange, Sarge.

-Thank you.

-Is there any word on the Inspector?

I mean, surely, they must have found them by now.

-The snow ploughs, they are trying to get through.

-I do hope you'll both be back in time to decorate the tree.

-I'm ever so sorry to disturb you.

I hope you don't mind.

Now, let's see what we have here then.

-We planned to meet on the train and get off just before Cholsey.

-Can you tell me why you're running away?

-Why do you think?

-And you couldn't afford the train ticket?

-I lost my job.

I'm an apprentice electrician.

Carol's dad called my boss

and said I'd been harassing his daughter.

-It still doesn't explain why you chose to elope

during the worst snowstorm in living memory.

Or why you were going alone to your aunt's at Christmas

on a one way ticket.

-Right. Well, I tested this,

"according to your instructions,"

and it's insoluble, so not blood.

Probably some kind of oil-based rust.

-I told you.

-I'm afraid that only proves that it's not blood.

As the only one without an alibi at the time of the murder,

I've got no choice but to detain you

until we can verify your stories.

-It isn't us you should be accusing.

We heard the two of them talking.

-The bells have thawed.

-♪ Fa la la la la la la la la ♪

-Praise be to God.

Our bodies may fast but our souls are nourished.

-About that. Some of us were thinking...

-Could this be another sign from the Holy Spirit?

-You may be right.

-Hallelujah. So Christmas is back on?

-Eh, eh, eh, eh. I think what she meant was

this may be a sign that God has blessed our endeavours.

Is that not right, Sister Peter?

-Y-Yes, Reverend Mother. -Uh-huh.

-Tell everyone what you told me.

-We were in the livestock car when we overheard them talking.

What are we going to do? -I don't know.

-As soon as we're rescued, you know what will happen.

-Well, then we should leave before they get here.

Leave? We don't even know where we are.

-Shh, shh. -I broke no promises.

-If Sir Swinton finds out what I did,

do you think he'll ever forgive me?

Tell me honestly, did you take the jewel?

-Jean.

After all this time?

You're part of the family!

-It isn't what you think.

-You don't want to know what I think.

-[ Clears throat ] If you will permit me to explain.

I am Prince Harinder Jarasandha Ray,

envoy to the Maharajah of Kashaktar.

We believe the stone you know as The Star of The Orient

is a holy relic of my nation.

-Oh, no. Watch out!

He may have a weapon.

The Eye of Shiva,

bestower of peace and prosperity.

For centuries, it was guarded in a sacred temple.

Then in 1863, the temple was looted and the jewel plundered.

After that, we suffered mutiny and famine,

world wars, and partition.

-You believe the jewel will restore your fortunes?

-I believe in the power of the mind.

Those that doubt fail, while faith will bring success.

We've been scouring the world for it ever since

and are prepared to pay any price for its return.

-Including stealing it?

-I am no thief.

Merely an emissary.

We received word the British Museum

had been offered a stone matching its description.

And I was sent to negotiate with Sir Swinton.

But he refused every overture.

-Because it is not for sale.

How much did he pay you?

-Nothing. It wasn't like that.

-Miss Smythe merely provided details of your journey.

It was my last chance to intercede.

I'd hoped if you'd heard me out, you would change your mind.

-Why did you help him, Miss Smythe?

-I'm not superstitious.

I've certainly never believed in ghosts and curses,

but since that jewel appeared, it felt like a pall of evil

descended on us.

[ Sighs ] I thought you should hear the facts

before you did something you'd regret.

-I don't employ you to make decisions for me.

In fact, from here on in, consider yourself unemployed.

And I shall make sure you never work again!

-And then it struck me.

"The Tea-Leaf" by Edgar Alfred Jepson.

A locked room mystery classic.

-I'll put it on my reading list.

-Death by icicle,

explaining why the body was still warm when you found it.

The icicle staunched the wound.

And when the heat of her body melted it, she bled out.

And here is home to our murder weapon.

Look.

Mistletoe, which could have been dislodged from the tree

when the murderer snapped off the icicle.

-Hmm.

-Now that's strange.

-What is that?

-I don't know.

Which is what makes it strange.

-Of course you realise, this puts back...

...the time of death by approximately 30 minutes.

I'm gonna need an account of all your movements.

-What's he saying?

-He's saying any of us could have done it.

-Who was last person to see Miss Fitz D'Arcy?

-She escorted me back to the train,

and then said she wanted to take a walk.

-Was there anybody else on the train?

-Swinton. But I-I think he was...

taking a nap.

-Are you accusing me of snoring?

-It's more of a whistle.

-After about half an hour, it had starting snowing,

so everybody came back to the train.

-Which is when we noticed Miss Fitz D'Arcy was missing.

We were about to send out a search party

when Fawcett returned with the news.

-I'm gonna need detailed statements from all of you.

-Does that mean I'm not under arrest anymore?

-Well, it doesn't mean you're off the hook.

-However, given this new information,

you are no more under suspicion than anyone else.

Any luck identifying that? -No.

The pattern has a strange symmetry.

It's almost man-made.

How did you get on?

-Well, Swinton and Abigail were on the train.

But according to Abigail, Swinton was asleep.

-Well, so he could have slipped out without her knowing.

-Hmm. Carol and Nick were together which means nothing.

Are they Romeo and Juliet or a baby-faced Bonnie and Clyde?

-Well, they were very swift to point the finger

at Mr. Ray and Miss Smythe.

-Who, along with Ranulph, don't have alibis.

They all claimed to be milling around outside,

but none of them can vouch for each other

during the crucial time.

-So, if we can assume that the jewel thief and murderer

are one in the same, and that Sir Swinton is telling the truth

about not revealing the combination...

-Then how did they steal the jewel?

-Exactly.

Find the thief and we find the murderer.

If you could assume Sir Swinton's position

entering the combination.

-If you tell me what we're doing.

-Seeing if there's any way he could have been observed.

-Right.

Nothing to be seen here.

Well, there aren't any footholds.

Hello. What have we here?

-Is it me, or is there something very strange about that woman?

-What is it? -It looks like sawdust.

Thrown from the train and then stuck to the window frame.

The question is, where did it come from?

-Can you find out? -It might have slipped your mind

but I'm without my usual diagnostic kit.

-I've got a present for you.

-Oh! What is it?

-I can't tell you. It would ruin the surprise.

Come on.

-I say, old chap, any chance of a cuppa?

-Right you are, Sir, but I'm afraid we are down

to our last half packet of shortbread fingers.

-Sir Swinton needs food to take his medication.

-My health is no longer any concern of yours.

-I suppose we could always burn down the train.

-Uh...

-Alright, keep your trousers on, Fawcett. I was joking.

-Ow!

-What is it? What's wrong?

-I'm fine. It's just...

-Forgive me, but you don't look fine.

-Could she have been poisoned?

-Is it the baby? -It can't.

I-It's too soon. It can't.

-It isn't due for two months.

-It seems your baby has other ideas.

-Ow!

-Ooh! [ Chuckles ]

-I bought it for my niece.

She's only four, but it's never too early to start.

Wrong one.

-Just what I wanted for Christmas.

-Erm, we have a problem.

-You poor things. Why didn't you tell us?

-That explains a lot.

-They were sending me to a home

for unmarried mothers to have the baby.

-Hence the one-way ticket. -We would be married.

But she's only 16 and needs her parents' permission.

They didn't want a brown baby in the family.

-They're gonna make me give it away after it's born.

[ Electricity crackles ]

-That's the power from the generator out.

-Well, how long before we freeze to death?

-Well... -That's not gonna happen.

Help will arrive soon.

-It's been 24 hours.

Surely they'd have found us by now.

-Hush! Listen. [ Bells tolling ]

I'd recognise those bells anywhere.

The Treble is late at backstroke.

And given the wind is blowing east

that means St. Vincent's is only,

well, a few miles southwest as the crow flies.

-We can't trek cross-country for miles

when there's more snow coming.

It would be suicide.

-Ow! [ Breathing heavily ]

-We could rig a signal.

-Of course. Why didn't we think of that?

Should we run up a red flag?

-No, the signal light's still on.

Maybe I could harness the power from it.

The cable. There's cable in the livestock carriage.

-Good idea. You two, go with him.

Meanwhile I'm gonna walk the tracks east,

see if I can find another phone.

-I'll come with you, Sir.

-Ow! [ Breathing heavily ]

-There, there.

[ Typewriter clacking ]

[ Telephone rings ]

-Henry Medwick. Secure Goods Logistics.

-Good afternoon.

DS Livingstone, Great Slaughter Police.

I believe you received a phone call from a public telephone box

at approximately 6:00 p.m. the night before last.

-Yes. An employee checking in with his travel details.

He was hired to accompany a cargo to London.

-A cargo?

-Yeah, we provide security escorts

for the shipment of valuable goods.

-I have some bad news.

We found a body last night, and we believe it may be him.

-In Great Slaughter?

-Yes. -No, that isn't possible.

I-I met him on the train yesterday

when I accompanied the safe to Gloucester Vale.

-What was in this safe?

-I suppose we'll have to wait till next year.

Hmm. Still at least we know what's behind it.

-Sister Reginald.

Look!

I've never seen that star that bright.

Maybe Reverend Mother is right.

God sees our purpose and has sent us a sign.

It's a miracle!

-Is it hell as like!

Come on!

-Morse code? -I'm no expert,

but even I know what dot, dot, dot, dash, dash --

-Eh, eh, eh, eh. I'll inform the authorities.

[ Static ]

-What can we do?

Without help, they may freeze to death.

-Fetch food, thermoses, and blankets.

-Where are we going? -We will follow that star!

-Interesting.

Oh. I see.

Oh, dear.

-[ Breathing heavily ]

There's a phone.

It's working.

-Agreeable as our acquaintance has been.

it's time for you and I to part company.

Sit.

-There's no need for violence.

-Oh, there's clearly a need for some.

But you've been a pleasure to serve, Inspector.

Which is why I'm not going to kill you.

-It's getting worse.

-How about a marching song?

Keep our spirits up?

-Excellent idea, Sister Reginald.

♪ Onward Christian Soldiers ♪

-♪ Jingle bells, jingle bells ♪

♪ Jingle all the way ♪

♪ Oh, what fun it is to ride ♪

♪ On a one-horse open sleigh, hey ♪

♪ Jingle bells, jingle bells ♪

♪ Jingle all the way ♪

♪ Oh, what fun it is to ride ♪

♪ On a one-horse open sleigh ♪

-A ruby worth £3 million?

I wouldn't mind that in my Christmas stocking.

-So, our victim's name is Stanley Fawcett.

He worked as a Pullman Steward for the security firm.

-The killer murdered him and took his place.

-Yeah, but there's something about this case

that I just can't put my finger on.

-I know what you mean, Sarge.

Do you know... I think I've got it.

Do you remember in February when we got that alert

from the Gloucester Police about the theft

of the Earl of Norton's painting?

-Mm. The Rembrandt.

I think you might be on to something, Peggy.

Can you dig out that file for me?

-On it, Sarge.

[ Indistinct whispering ]

-All this time you had £3 million under your hat.

-You weren't supposed to wake up.

My error.

I should have hit you harder.

-Shame. -It is for you.

Now I'm going to have to kill you.

-Wait!

At least tell me how you stole it.

-I don't share trade secrets.

-I think I can explain.

Once I'd worked it out, it was clear there was only one person

with the opportunity to engineer it.

-Put the gun down, Sister.

-I believe this is what's known as a standoff.

-Hmm. Then while we wait,

the floor is yours.

-The sawdust transpired to be oak veneer on pine

with traces of varnish, matching that on the door.

I examined it, you see,

and found signs that the spy hole had been unscrewed

Then it was only a matter of reversing it.

After gaining the combination,

it was a simple matter to switch it back again.

Simple but ingenious.

-Very good, Sister.

If you are even a nun.

-Oh, assuredly so

and have no experience with firearms.

So even though I would be aiming at your leg,

the chances of me missing and hitting a vital organ

is statistically quite high.

-Put it down. And she's not lying to you.

She's no threat to you. You can let her go.

-As someone whose career rests on remaining incognito,

I beg to differ.

And now regrettably, I must kill you both.

Ladies first.

-No! [ Gunshot ]

For God sake, Sister, put it down.

It is real and it is loa--

[ Glass shatters ]

A little help here would be appreciated.

-Intriguing. So Fawcett was our thief,

begging the question, who killed Miss Fitz D'Arcy

given he has a cast-iron alibi?

Oh, sorry.

-10 months ago, a Rembrandt was stolen from the Earl of Norton

by a man masquerading as a restorer,

who was subsequently found murdered.

-Believed to be the work of Pontius Blik,

an international thief and a master of disguise.

He's wanted by INTERPOL.

-And you think he's on this missing train with Gillespie?

-Yes, Sir.

The rescue services still can't get through to locate them.

It's 30 miles.

-So we're looking for a needle in a haystack

in a blizzard.

-I don't think we can get there!

-We've come too far to go back again,

so we're damned if we do and we're damned if we don't!

-I've often wondered how I'd go?

I have to say, freezing to death in a blizzard

wasn't high on the list.

-Quiet, Sister Reginald.

I think the time for flippancy is over

and the time for prayer begun.

Our Father, Who art in heaven,

hallowed be Thy name;

Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done

on earth as it is in heaven.

-As it is in heaven.

[ Clock chiming ]

-It was Fawcett?

-"Fawcett" isn't who we thought, it seems.

-And now he's escaped with the jewel?

-It has a habit of making its way back.

-Sister Boniface! I need your help!

Her contractions are getting closer together!

I'm no expert, but...

-I-I'm on my way, Miss Smythe!

Um, hot towels.

-In the meantime, keep that signal going.

-Give us this day our daily bread;

and forgive us our trespasses

as we forgive those who trespass against us;

and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

-Is it an angel?

-Warra u ella dun are et Susser?

-Oh, yes, look, here's one.

-Good.

-Strange.

Inspector. Can I have a word?

Miss Fitz D'Arcy wasn't murdered because of the jewel.

It was an entirely different motive.

-What am I looking at?

-I think it's a glove mark where they rested their hand

on the tree trunk while reaching for the icicle.

-Are you sure?

-Not at all.

The image was far too fuzzy.

But there is one way of finding out.

Lights, please.

Up a bit.

Left a bit.

Down a smidgeon. Stop.

Don't move.

Oh, yes, the wood cells

have changed where the roots were invaded.

[ Vehicle approaches ]

-Ow!

-Sister Boniface. -Reverend Mother.

It's a long story. -Spare me.

It appears there is a young woman in labour.

-We have to get her to an hospital.

-How far apart are the contractions?

-About two minutes.

-Then you aren't going anywhere

unless you want to give birth in the back of a tractor.

I predict baby will be with us within the hour.

Why are you looking at me like that?

I was trained in the midwifery.

So, uh, chop chop.

Uh, scissors, surgical scissors, um, sheets, and blankets.

-Ow! -Oh, and space,

maybe enough for you to lie down in.

Ah, this will do.

-Our baby is not being born with the animals!

-If it was good enough for St. Joseph,

then it's good enough for you.

-You found us?

-Thank Tom.

He was out in the fields feeding his sheep.

[ Sheep bleating ]

-Dor dor dor dar dar dar dor dor dor.

Dar dar dar.

-[ Chuckles ] Nice one, Tom.

-There's something I need to show you.

We found him less than a mile from here.

No signs of any injury.

He must have frozen.

-Except for the expression on his face.

-It looks like he was frightened to death.

-We found this clutched in his hands.

-Sir Swinton.

-Sir Swinton Usher. I believe this is yours, Sir.

-No. I don't want it.

-I'll fill you in later.

Button, could you please gather everyone in the Pullman.

-Sarge.

-Our error was assuming Miss Fitz D'Arcy

had discovered our jewel thief

when, in fact, there's another imposter.

-You have my word, I did not touch her.

-Don't look at me.

-I'm looking at you, Mrs. Usher.

Can you explain what you were doing at the crime scene?

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-I have your glove here.

It's riddled with mistletoe parasite

from the tree the murder weapon came from.

-How could you possibly know that?

-I've been economical with the truth.

-Sister Boniface is our Police Scientific Advisor.

As well as being a nun.

-Are you insane, man? She's blind.

-Then how can she explain this?

-Tropicamide.

It's a pupil dilator used in cycloplegic refractions.

-When did you regain your sight, Mrs. Usher?

-Three months ago.

-And when were you planning on telling me?

-[ Sighs ]

I knew I couldn't hide it forever,

but just a little while.

I didn't want to ruin it.

-Ruin what? -Us.

For the first time in our marriage,

I had you all to myself.

Then Helena started writing, asking you to go back to her.

-You read my letters.

-It wasn't like you needed to hide them from me.

And then Miss Fitz D'Arcy saw me.

-[ Snoring ]

-The next day, she escorted me back to the train

and suggested we take a little walk

so we could talk in private.

I bared my soul to her, begged her to keep my secret

so I could tell you in my own time

once that woman was out of our lives for good.

-I sympathise of course.

And naturally, you may trust in my discretion.

I'm sure we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

-Are you blackmailing me?

-Nothing so vulgar.

Just a modest monthly stipend

in return for services rendered.

-You're despicable.

-Easy for you to say.

You have a husband to cushion you.

Whereas I am obliged to feather my own nest.

Perhaps you need a moment to think about it.

-What choice did I have but to agree

to her sordid little blackmail?

Everything that happened after was like a dream,

like I was outside of my body watching it.

-I'm sure you've made the right decision.

[ Gasps ]

-I'd never have left you, Abigail.

Blind or not.

Call it an epiphany,

but there's nothing like a near-death experience

to make one re-evaluate one's priorities.

-What are you saying?

-Me, us.

I couldn't change what had happened,

but I could be a better man.

And somewhat to my surprise,

I discovered being a better man rather suited me.

It's a lot less stressful for one.

Oh, we were happy, Abigail.

-Abigail Usher, I'm arresting you for the murder

of Deborah Fitz D'Arcy.

You are not obliged to say anything,

but anything you do say may be written down

and given as evidence.

-Push! -Oh, well done.

-Perhaps a little more effort next time.

-You kept that quiet.

I'd never have had you down as a midwife.

-I started my vocation in a midwifery order

before I realised it wasn't for me.

-Aah! -It's not the babies I minded

so much as the mothers

who always insisted on making such a fuss.

-Oh, I can't do it any more! I can't.

-It's only childbirth.

You're aren't Sir Edmund Hillary

on the summit of Mount Everest.

-Aah!

-Ah, Carol.

I want you to stop pushing.

-Is -- Is something wrong?

-There will be if you don't do as you're told.

Now, the baby's head is facing the wrong way,

so I need to turn the baby round so...

Don't push. Do not push.

P-Pant. Pant as quick as you can.

[ Panting ]

-[ Panting ]

-Big -- Big breaths like you're --

like you're blowing out a candle.

[ All blowing ]

Now, now. I want you to push as hard as you can.

Push! -[ Grunts ]

[ Screaming ] -Push, push!

-Push! Push!

-Push. -Push.

-Push. -Push.

-As hard as you can, push.

-[ Breathing heavily ]

-You have a beautiful daughter.

-And I'm no expert,

but it looks like someone got their dates wrong.

Quite the bouncer.

-Is -- Is something wrong?

Why -- Why isn't she crying?

-Ooh, they'll be -- they'll be plenty of time for that

later on, don't you worry.

-She -- She's dead, isn't she?

[ Breathing heavily ]

-She's a -- She's a -- She's a naughty little baby,

is what she is.

Now then, madam.

No trouble from you or you'll have me to deal with.

[ Baby crying ]

-Sensible girl.

[ Laughs ]

-I'm beginning to think you were right.

Maybe the damned thing is cursed.

-Take it. It's yours.

-You may name your price.

-Keep your money. It was never mine to begin with.

With the jewel, I received

William Usher's suicide letter to his brother Julian.

And his confession.

He and a fellow officer looted the jewel

from a temple like common thieves.

His partner in crime died shortly after,

and William brought the stone back to England,

claiming he won it in a card game.

His heirs were sworn to secrecy

for fear of ruining the family name.

It isn't the jewel, it's our family that is cursed

for the sins of the past.

Let's pray this brings an end to it.

-Thank you.

-We will be needing a receipt.

Sorry.

-Where would we be without you, Jean?

-Well, well. You'd better get on with it.

-Right away, Sir Swinton.

[ Animal bleats ]

-Congratulations. She's gorgeous.

-Have you decided on a name?

-We're gonna name her after the Reverend Mother.

-Oh, yes. Um, Adrienne.

Very pretty.

-No. After her christened name.

-Wagons roll.

We need to get you somewhere warm and dry

and a decent meal inside you.

-Well, where are you taking me?

-I won't let them take our baby.

-You've no job, and we've nowhere to live.

How are we supposed to stop them?

-We'll have less of the defeatist attitude, thank you.

Sister Reginald?

-There's the old groundskeeper's cottage.

It's a bit worn and torn,

but nothing a lick of paint won't fix.

-And we've always work for a handyman around the place.

-It will do until you get your feet on the ground

and a ring on the young lady's finger.

But rest assured.

The little Hepzibah is going nowhere.

-Charming.

And how wonderful to have baby...

Hepzibah for Christmas.

-Well, don't hold your breath.

Christmas is cancelled.

Isn't that right, Reverend Mother?

-A baby is born to us this auspicious night.

How can God not want us all to celebrate?

-[ Laughs ]

What's wrong with you?

-May I congratulate you on a truly top job?

Two murders, a jewellery theft,

and the apprehension of INTERPOL's most wanted,

albeit dead rather than alive.

-We brought brandy. For medicinal purposes.

-Thank goodness you're safely back,

and in the nick of time.

Listen.

[ Bell tolling ]

-It's Christmas day.

-Happy Christmas! -Happy Christmas.

-Of course we have a prisoner in custody

who we can't move until the roads have cleared.

So someone's going to be playing guard duty.

Obviously Gillespie can't. I mean just look at you.

You're in no fit state.

-I appreciate that, Sir.

-So... -I'll do it.

You know, Christmas is a time for family,

and I believe that Peggy and CC Lowsley

should be with theirs.

I'm really sorry, Mrs. Clam and Miss Thimble,

for all the trouble you've gone to.

-Of course it's only right

that they should be with their families.

-Oh, thanks, Sarge.

I'll bring you some Christmas dinner.

My mum makes the best roast turkey in Great Slaughter.

No offence to Mrs. Clam or Mrs. Lowsley intended.

-Oh, none taken.

She may be the queen of my heart,

but no one could describe her as queen of the kitchen.

I-I-I will hold fort.

-But your wife, Sir.

-Fortunately has got her mother for company.

So you can all drink, eat, and be merry.

Consider it my Christmas present to my --

to -- to -- to you all.

-Oh!

[ Laughter ]

[ Telephone ringing ]

[ Bell tolling ]

-Mother? -Oh, it's you.

It's her. -Did she get lost?

-Did you get lost? -It's a very long story.

I'm very sorry that I couldn't make it.

-Oh, well, it doesn't matter.

Your Sister's concert was cancelled

'cause of the bad weather. They're all here.

-Everything's tickety boo. -I have to go, darling.

We're playing Bach's Sarabande to the baby.

I'm almost certain he's got perfect pitch.

[ Dial tone ]

-Merry Christmas, Mother.

-♪ God rest ye merry gentlemen ♪

♪ Let nothing you dismay ♪

-Merry Christmas, Sir.

-Oh!

-♪ Was born on upon this day ♪

♪ To save us all from Satan's pow'r ♪

♪ When we were gone astray ♪

-[ Laughs ]

-♪ Oh, tidings of comfort and joy ♪

-Reindeer?

-Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.

-Um...

-Bambi? -Strip poker?

-No! It's a play!

-"Midsummer Nights Dream"!

-Yes!

-[ Laughs ]

-Your turn.

-Okay.

Okay, so...

-Film! -No, no, no, no.

It's -- It's a play. -You can't talk!

-One word. -One word.

-Two syllables.

-"The Importance of Being Earnest"!

[ Laughter ] -Really.

-Top up, ladies?

-Oh, I think we've had enough, don't you, Dottie?

-Chin-chin!

-Oh, well, I suppose it is Christmas.

-Merry Christmas! -[ Laughs ]

-Merry Christmas.

-♪ Of comfort and joy ♪

[ Indistinct conversations ]

[ Popper pops ]

-Right, let's get a photo, everyone, shall we?

Everyone, gather round.

Sisters?

Gather round.

Can everyone see me? Sisters?

And say season's greetings.

-Season's greetings.

[ Camera shutter clicks ]

-♪ Oh, tidings of comfort and joy ♪

-[ Sighs ]

Perfect.