All language subtitles for T.R.o.S.H.S01E10.The.Affair.of.the.Tortoise.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

In late Victorian London
lived many detectives

who were the rivals
of Sherlock Holmes.

Thank you!

"March 6th, 2:30 p.m.

Unknown vessel
came alongside..."

All right, all right,
I only got one pair of hands.

I'm a-coming.

Good afternoon.

I believe Miss Hester Chapman
lives at this address.

That's right.
Second floor up.

Well, perhaps you'd ask if she'd
be good enough to receive me.

You just wait here, sir.

Thank you.

I'll ask her if she's at home.

Thank you very much.

Cleo? Cleo?

Ou êtes-vous, Cleo?

Oh!
A thousands pardons, monsieur.

I was looking for Cleo.

She has disappeared,
the naughty girl.

Well, if you mean the housemaid,
she's just gone upstairs.

Oh, no, no, no.
The housemaid is Millie.

Cleo est ma tortue --
my tortoise --

and I cannot find her.

Um...well, let me assist you.

My profession has given me
a certain facility

in locating missing persons
and objects.

So, a tortoise should be
a novelty.

Ask Mr. Hewitt to come up,
Millie.

Where did you see her last?

In the basement downstairs,
where we live.

Now, we can assume
she didn't come upstairs

of her own volition

since tortoises are not noted
for their agility.

Miss Chapman says will you
please come up, sir.

Oh, thank you.

I'm afraid I must leave you
to search for Cleo unaided.

Oh, lost your tortoise again,
Mr. Gowjin?

- Goujon.
- I know where she is.

I found her wandering
amongst the coal,

and I thought she might end up
on the fire.

So I put her in your bed.

Oh, you're a dear, kind,
thoughtful child, Millie.

Thank you.
Thank you, monsieur.

Pleasure.

Dotes on that nasty,
horrible beast, he does.

It takes all kinds, don't it?
Will you come this way, sir?

Thank you.

Come in.

Mr. Hewitt, mum.

Thank you, Millie.

It's good of you to receive me

without prior notice,
Miss Chapman.

I intended to write, but finding
myself in the district,

I thought to save time
and trouble.

Don't apologize, Mr. Hewitt.
I'm not inconvenienced.

- Won't you sit down?
- Thank you.

I confess I'm somewhat intrigued

to learn the purpose
of your visit.

I see by your card
you're a private investigator.

Yes, and I've been instructed
to contact you

by Stubbins and Parsifal,
solicitors, Chancery Lane.

As to the nature
of our business,

I think we might come to that
very quickly

if you'd be good enough
to afford me certain answers.

What are the questions,
Mr. Hewitt?

- May I use this?
- Yes, of course.

Thank you.

You're
Miss Hester Caroline Chapman.

Yes.

Only child to the late
Reverend Horace Chapman

of the vicarage in Nether Upton
and incumbent of that parish?

Yes.

My father passed away five years
ago, my mother soon after.

So, it follows, then,

that you're also related in some
degree to Mr. Phineas Chapman?

My granduncle.

Uh...

Yes, yes, that's right,
your -- your granduncle.

I never actually met him.

His name was never allowed
in the house.

My father regarded him
as something of a libertine.

He now lives in Australia,
I believe.

No, I'm afraid not.

In fact, his present whereabouts

rather depend on the accuracy
of your father's assessment,

as your granduncle died
six months ago.

Oh, I see.

I'm afraid I cannot pretend
sorrow for someone I never knew.

Well, then your feelings
will be unmixed

when I tell you
that he died a rich man

and that you appear to be
his sole surviving heir.

Ici, Cleo.

Ici.

Bon appétit, ma petite tortue.

Ah.
Vous-avez faim, n'est-ce pas?

Ooh, ho ho ho!

Vous-avez très faim, hein?

Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!

I think, if you'll excuse me,
I ought to see what's happening.

That is hardly
necessary, Mr. Hewitt.

It is a tenant
from the floor above

descending to the floor below.

He frequently does so
by sliding down the banisters.

How very disturbing for you.

Yes, and alarming.

Mr. Rameau is a gentleman
of intemperate habits.

He screams and howls
in unknown tongues.

He falls asleep
on the staircase.

Sometimes I'm afraid to pass.

Once --

It is quite intolerable.

Has no one complained
to the landlord?

We all have, several times.

Mr. Styles is only interested
in his rents.

And so long as Mr. Rameau
continues to pay his regularly,

he cannot be prevailed upon
to give him notice.

Well, then, Mr. Styles
is extremely inconsiderate.

Um...well, I might be
of some assistance.

As a private investigator,

I have many friends
in the constabulary.

Perhaps if I mentioned
the matter...

You're very kind, Mr. Hewitt.

What upsets me most
is the way he treats Mr. Goujon.

The Frenchman downstairs.
Yes, we've already met.

The landlord employs him
to do odd jobs.

He's a quiet, gentle man,

but I've seen him
almost driven to madness

by Mr. Rameau
and his practical jokes.

May I offer you tea?

Oh, I think
I must take my leave now

and report back
to Stubbins and Parsifal.

It has been most pleasant
meeting you, Mr. Hewitt.

Pleasant and I hope successful,

since I shall be able to tell
lawyers

that I've traced
their late client's grandniece.

Do you know --

That is, did the lawyers say
how much my granduncle left?

Oh, I think Stubbins
and Parsifal

would rather tell you that
themselves.

But I've no doubt it'll provide
you with a decent annuity.

I won't pretend
that I don't need it.

A governess-companion has little
chance to put any savings aside.

Mr. Hewitt,
do you do much business

with the legal profession?

Forgive my curiosity,

but I've never before met
a private investigator.

My field of inquiry
tends to be wide-ranging,

but I must confess
my real interest

lies with the darker side
of human activity.

Not criminals, Mr. Hewitt?

In particular, with murder.

Cochon! Canaille!
You could have killed me!

Look at the mess of me here!

Cleo, you --

Here.
Buy yourself some soap!

No, you take your money back
from where you got this!

Voleur!

What did you call me,
mon petit homme?!

Voleur?!

You would call Cesar Rameau
a thief, huh?!

Bête dégoutant!

I am the best man
of this place!

No!

Brother to the prime minister,

général en chef
to the président!

Vive Son Excellence!
Domingue!

Cleo?

Aah!

Elle -- Elle est morte!

You -- You have killed my Cleo!

You -- You assassin!

What?

You assassin!

I will kill you!

- Assassin!
- Help me, somebody!

- I will kill you!
- Il est fou!

Goujon! Steady, steady!

You meurtrier!

Cleo. Cleo.

Yes, thank you very much,
Mr. Hewitt.

A drink is always acceptable
on a parky day.

Yes, it is parky.
I quite agree.

What will you have?

I'll have a small port
and lemon, if I may.

A port and lemon
for Inspector Nettings, Vera,

and I'll have my usual.

So, what do you think?

Well, I don't see

as how there's much to be said
about it, really.

I can hardly charge the fellow
with murder,

not when the victim is a turtle,
if you take my point.

Oh, I do, indeed, but I'm afraid
you've missed mine.

I reported the situation
to alert you to something

which might eventually lead
to extreme violence.

Oh, well, maybe.

Maybe it would.
Maybe it wouldn't.

The position is that Rameau is
terrorizing the whole building.

Ah. Well, now, I thought,
according to your telling of it,

it was your little
French chappie

who was terrorizing Rameau.

How much is that, Vera?

That'll be fourpence
three-farthings.

Thank you very much.

Chasing him around
with a wood chopper.

I suppose I could arrest him
for that.

Goujon was provoked by the
callous slaughter of his pet.

Mm, yes, the tortoise.

Well,
I did look into the matter.

Oh, I'm obliged to you,
Inspector.

Item -- Mr. Cesar Rameau
has been fined several times

for breaches of the peace.

I believe I told you that.

Possibly, possibly,

but the Detective Department

does not rely on hearsay,
Mr. Hewitt.

Item -- Mr. Cesar Rameau
is not short of a bob or two.

My inquiries
have not established

the exact source of his income,

but I have reason to believe
he sells things.

What things?

Articles of value -- jewelry.

He's had dealings
with Trussgroves, you know,

the West End jewelers.

Oh, yes, he sold them
a quantity of trinkets

for several hundred pound.

Well, isn't that in itself
suspicious?

I thought it might be,

but none of the articles
was on the stolen list.

So, the fellow can well afford

to indulge his taste
for persecuting others.

Well, he won't be persecuting

your little French chap
much longer.

The beat constable

is on friendly terms
with the housemaid,

and she says
that your Mr. Goujon

is leaving next Saturday.

He got a job with some relative
in France.

Goujon's leaving?

Mm.

So you've no further need
to concern yourself.

No. I'd feel happier if it was
Rameau who was leaving.

Mm-hmm, but perhaps your real
concern is for some other party,

if I may make so bold?

I'm reliably informed
that you presented your card

to a certain Miss Chapman --

thank you --
who resides at the same address.

I'm also informed that she is a
most pleasant and handsome lady.

She is both.

And our meeting
was by way of business.

Mum's the word, Mr. Hewitt.

He's back again.

Who's back, sir?

That chap across the street --
colored fellow.

He's been standing there
three or four times this week.

Here, you have a look, Millie,
see if you know him.

Know him?
I can't even see him.

Oh, the other end, Millie.

I can't see anybody.

Just across the street.
Here, let me.

Well, that's funny.

Hey. He's gone.

Hmm!

Black man, was he?

Might be looking for old Rameau.

Come to change your towels,
Mr. Rameau.

Morning, Millie.

Morning, Mr. Gowjin.

Goujon, eh?

How many more times
do I have to tell you?

Goujon.

Not many more, I'm sorry to say.
You're off tomorrow, anyhow.

And I shall miss you, Millie,

and the charming Miss Chapman
and the Captain Cutler, huh?

But not that pig in there, huh?

I am glad to be carrying

the last scuttle of coals
for that one.

Old Rameau --
just took his towels in.

Very particular he is
about having clean towels.

Wish he was this particular
about the state of his room.

Oh, well,
can't stand here talking.

Old Styles will be around
for the rent,

and I expect he'll do
a tour of inspection

to see if I've done my work.

Who put that in my room?!
Who pay you, huh?!

Méchanceté! Wicked!

What's he on about?!

La poupée, the doll,
la poupée diabolique!

Leave her alone, will you?!

Clear, you!

Ohh!

Ohh. I will kill him.
I will.

Hello.

Foreign vessel
returning to port,

and with a cargo.

Now, I wonder where he's been.

Yeah, but you can't take her
with you,

not all the way to France.

I mean, it's not decent.

Where can I bury her?

Well, they're digging up
the roads along at the corner.

Maybe if you ask them.
God knows the hole's big enough.

Eh? What's this, Millie,

gossiping when you
should be working, eh?

No, Mr. Styles, just popped in
to say cheerio to Mr. Gowjin.

Goujon.

That's right.
He's leaving today.

Yeah, well aware of it.
Most inconvenient.

Well, get about your business,
girl.

I've been trying to.

I've been up at Mr. Rameau's
three times

to change the sheets,

but I can't when he's laying
in bed, snoring his head off.

Then find something else
meantime.

Change them later.

Yes, Mr. Styles.

Oh, goodbye, Mr. Gowjin and...

- Goujon.
- ...good luck.

Au revoir, Millie.

Now, Goujon,
I won't give you a reference.

Work not at all satisfactory.

I'll give you your wages.
You give me a receipt, eh?

Eh?

You up yet, Mr. Rameau?

Oh, God, drunk again.

It's Millie!
It's Millie!

Millie!

He's been done for!
God, he's been done for!

Murder! Aah!

Oh, God, I won't go
into that room again.

I don't want to see
his horrible, dead face.

Compose yourself, Millie.
No one's asking you to go in.

Well, it certainly looks
as if murder's been done.

There's blood on the carpet
with a chopper beside it.

There's just one thing missing.

And what's that?

Well, where's the body?

And how long would you say

the maidservant was unconscious,
Miss Chapman?

Well, about 10 minutes,
I should think.

But then she had hysterics
for another 5.

I suppose it was 15 minutes

before we managed to get
out of her what had happened.

Your constable
just happened to be passing by.

Yes, yes.

You teach languages, I'm told.

Amongst other things, yes.

I found this lying on the floor.

My French is a bit rusty.

I wonder if you'd mind
translating it for me.

Yes, of course.

"Punished by an avenger
of the tortoise."

Yes. Thank you.

Must have been very fond
of that pet.

Pet.

Oh, no!

It can't mean that, not Goujon.

Who else, miss?
Obvious, isn't it?

It was good of you to come
so quickly, Mr. Hewitt.

Well, your note did contain
a sense of urgency,

and from what Millie's told me,

I gather it's something to do
with today's events.

Yes.

I believe the man to be charged
with the murder innocent,

no matter what
Inspector Nettings says.

Nettings? He's in charge
of the investigation?

- Do you know him?
- We're acquainted.

I'm sure
he's a very worthy officer.

It's just he strikes me
as being ra--

I've heard the opinion expressed
that Inspector Nettings

couldn't find an omnibus
in Oxford Street,

but I don't share that opinion.

On the other hand,

I'm not convinced he could find
the one he was looking for,

as he tends to look little
beyond the obvious.

Mr. Hewitt,

you said last time we met

that you sometimes undertook
criminal investigations.

When the circumstances
interest me, yes.

I should like to engage
your professional services

in this matter.

Well, you may uncover
some piece of evidence

which could prove
Goujon innocent.

May I ask the reason
for your concern?

As you know,
my expectations from the will

have been fully realized.

I feel I should like to share
my good fortune

with someone in need,

and I did like Mr. Goujon.

Your feelings do you
great credit, Miss Chapman.

Will you undertake
the commission?

Well...

Well, it's Mr. Hewitt.

It would seem
you've got your murder.

So I've been told, Inspector.

Do you mind if I look around?

By all means.

Perhaps you can spot something
I've overlooked,

though it's not a case
there can be much doubt about.

You think it's Goujon,
don't you?

Think?
Well, rather.

Look at this.

Settles the matter, doesn't it?

"Puni par un vengeur
de la tortue" --

"Punished by an avenger
of the tortoise."

Well, that sounds odd.

There's a pinhole here.

Yes, I did notice it.
Pinned to the body, most like.

The murder weapon?

A wood chopper -- Goujon's --
killed him on impulse with this.

Well, hardly on impulse.

As you'll have noticed,

the ink and notepaper
don't match those in this room.

So it follows, therefore,

that the murderer must have
prepared the note elsewhere,

before committing the murder.

Or after.

Yes, possibly.

Why do you think
Goujon removed the body?

Oh, well, he just had
second thoughts, that's all,

and the noted dropped off
while he was doing it.

Have you compared this

with other specimens
of Goujon's handwriting?

Yes, I did think of it, but
there isn't a specimen to hand.

Anyway,
it's not all that important.

There it is --
"avenger of the tortoise,"

and in the man's own language.

That tells everything.

And besides, handwritings
are easily disguised.

It may not be Goujon, you know.

Come, come, Mr. Hewitt.

The facts are as plain
as the nose on your face.

Who else could it be?

Oh, that's a question
I'd have to...think about

before answering.

But to begin with,

how do you suppose the murderer
got the body away?

Step this way, Mr. Hewitt,
and I'll enlighten you.

That's how.
Easy as winking.

There's a lift door
on each floor,

and all these basements
communicate, one with another.

No one saw him leave?

No. No, I've made
particular inquiries.

No news, Inspector, eh?
Found out nothing else, eh?

We are pursuing our inquiries,
sir.

Terrible thing for my property,
terrible.

It comes of having to do with
these bloodthirsty foreigners.

Mustn't waste time, Inspector.
Mustn't hang about here.

Should be out and about, hunting
high and low for the malefactor.

With respect, sir,

I am conducting an investigation
as to his whereabouts.

Well, it doesn't take
two of you, surely.

This gentleman

is not attached to the
Detective Department, sir,

nor, for that matter,
to the constabulary.

Allow me to introduce myself.

Martin Hewitt,
private investigator.

Ah, private, eh?

Usual story, I suppose --
police baffled.

Sorry state of affairs, eh?

I am far from being baffled,
Mr. Styles!

Well, it must be Goujon.

But look around if you like,

and if you see anything
likely to serve my interests,

well, tell me.

Did you manage to get a specimen
of Goujon's handwriting, sir?

- Oh, yes, yes, I have it here.
- Oh, good.

Receipt for his wages.

Let me see.

There's his signature.

Mm-hmm.

The handwriting appears to be
quite different.

Disguised, Mr. Hewitt,
as I said.

Tell me, Mr. Styles,
what was your opinion of Rameau?

Rameau? Well,
he paid his rent regularly,

came here
on a banker's reference --

St. Martin's, Chandos Street --

man of substance.

Well, let me know
what you find out, Hewitt.

Then I'll think about
hiring you. Good day.

Likes to see what
he's getting, does Mr. Styles.

Let him know what you find out.

Nothing else to find out,
is there?

Perhaps not.

But we must make the effort.

A splendid vessel, Captain.

You must have been very proud
of her.

Yes!

The Oriana.

I suppose I've been
around the Horn in her

more times than you've walked
down the Mall.

Well,
the sun's over the yardarm.

Will you care for a tot,
Mr. Hewitt?

Oh, no, thank you.

I shall need all my wits
about me on this case.

Mm.

It wasn't Goujon, you know.

He's a decent little fellow.
Wouldn't hear him hurt a fly.

Yes, that seems to be
the general impression

of his character.

Perhaps you have some thoughts
on who did kill Rameau.

I told the inspector,
but he wouldn't listen.

No, it was that chap
who has been hanging around

for the past week,

about the same size and build
as Rameau.

I thought it was Rameau
at first.

You thought --
Then the stranger was a Negro?

Hmm?

Oh, didn't I say?
Yes, he was.

Yes, he was there Monday,
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.

I put all the times down
in the log, too.

You keep a log?

Habit, Mr. Hewitt, habit.
Been doing it for years.

Yes, it's all down there,
the times I saw him.

Yes, he'd stand staring up
at Rameau's room for hours.

It's possible
he was some compatriot?

No doubt of it.

Yes, the first time I saw him,

I thought he was looking
for Rameau.

So, I asked Rameau later on if
he was expecting any visitors.

And what did he say?

Not a word.

Just stood staring at me
with his mouth gaping open.

Then he bolted upstairs, and I
heard the key turn in his lock.

Now, that was before
the business with the doll,

of course, the voodoo doll.

He accused young Millie

of planting it in his room,
you know.

So, Rameau was
from the West Indies?

Yes, you know the --

Here, now.

I have a chart here.

Now, this is the Caribbean here,
the West Indies.

And just down here, past
the Caicos bank is Hispaniola.

That's the biggest island
of the lot, barring Cuba.

- And this bit here is Haiti.
- The Black republic.

You've been there?

No, but I've heard the country

is in a degenerate state
of extreme savagery.

And you've heard right.

Never put into Port-au-Prince

when they've got a rebellion
on the way.

You'd be lucky to get out alive.

Well, I shall certainly remember
your advice,

though Haiti is not
on my immediate itinerary.

Very wise, Mr. Hewitt.

Tell me about the voodoo doll,
Captain.

Well, it's...

I'll tell you this,

anybody that gets one
hasn't got long to live.

You wanted to see me, sir?

Yes, my lady.

I understand it was you
who found Mr. Rameau's body.

Why did you come to his room?

I come to change the bedding,
didn't I?

Not his towels?

No, I changed them
the day before.

Because there aren't any
in the bedroom. Are you sure?

I remember particular
'cause one had a hole in it,

and I thought,

"Hello, old Styles is gonna have
to dip his hands in his pocket."

And did you change
the bed linen?

How could I when he was laying
in the bed?

Three times I come up,

and he was always laying there,
snoring.

When was the last time
you saw him alive?

Be about half past 1:00,
I'd say, sir.

I guessed from the appearance
of Mr. Rameau's bedroom

that he wasn't a creature
of tidy habits.

Him?
He gave me more work

than all the other tenants
put together.

I was never done putting
his clothes away.

Yes, I can well imagine.

Yet his wardrobe appears to be
rather extensive.

Oh, always buying
new clothes, he was.

Some of them he hardly wore
more than once,

except for that funny jacket
of his, the one with the medals.

Yes.

It seems odd, in view of the
rigors of the English climate,

that he never saw fit to buy
an overcoat.

Oh, he had one, all
right, one of them ulsters,

and he used to go about

with the collar turned up
when the weather got parky.

There's nothing of that
description in the wardrobe.

Will that be all, sir?

Not quite, no, no, no.
Tell me about this doll.

Not your taste, Mr. Hewitt.

Well, I admire
the craftsmanship,

but, no, I don't think
I'd like to have it

staring back at me
from above the mantelpiece.

I have no such qualms.

I am protected.

There is little of the occult
or supernatural

which is not contained
within my collection.

I am protected by knowledge.

By the knowledge
that it is all superstition?

The truth is what we believe
to be true,

but I will forgive
the skepticism

of an old and valued customer.

What brings you here today,
Mr. Hewitt?

This.

This was sent to you?

No, to someone else.
I found it in his room.

I'm relieved to hear it.

Be rid of it, Mr. Hewitt.

Well, I think I'd like to know
a little more about it first.

It belongs
to the cult of voodoo,

and the voodoo doll
carries evil and death.

Would you care to examine it?

Oh, come, come.

You said your knowledge
was your shield.

My knowledge of Obeah
or candomble or macumba,

but voodoo -- with that,
I am less familiar.

I have seen the like before,
of course.

Oh? Where?

In Haiti. That is where the cult
is at its strongest.

You've been there.

I have traveled extensively
in pursuit of my knowledge.

Yes, men have been known
to die of fear

after receiving one of
these accursed things.

Can the curse be removed?

By the priest who placed it

or by someone who understands
the mysteries.

How did you come by
this abomination?

It was sent to a man
called Rameau, Cesar Rameau.

Rameau?

You know the name?

Perhaps.

I believe
that I've heard it before.

If you can recollect when,
I'd be grateful.

It was just a bad dream, Millie.

There are no such things
as ghosts.

Cross my heart and hope to die,
mum.

God, I nearly did.

Old Rameau's come back
to haunt us.

I heard him moving about.

What did you hear?

Well, I was lying in my bed,

and I heard this noise from the
room below -- old Rameau's room.

So, I gets up and puts my ear
to the floorboards,

and there he is,
banging about and thumping.

Sheer imagination, Millie.

That room is above this one,
and I heard nothing.

But you was asleep.

Millie, please go back to bed
and forget all this nonsense.

Ah, Inspector, my housekeeper
said you were here.

I've been making several calls.

I hope I haven't
kept you waiting.

Not long, Mr. Hewitt, no.

And to what do I owe
the pleasure?

I just thought you'd like
to know we've got Goujon.

Picked him up at Newhaven
on his way to Dieppe.

Oh. You are to be congratulated
on your efficiency.

Am I?
He's got an alibi.

Rameau was last seen alive by
the housemaid at half past 1:00.

Then she found him dead at 3:00.

Goujon's got two friends.

All swear he was with them

from 12:00 till 4:00
in the afternoon.

And you're satisfied
they're telling you the truth?

I suppose so.

Men of good character,
both local costermongers.

It seems one of them offered
to wheel Goujon's trunk

down to the station
on his barrow.

Then they had a few drinks
together

by way of seeing him off.

Which I take it they did.

Right on to the blessed train,

after which they stood there
on the platform,

a-waving of their handkerchiefs
till it was out of sight.

How very fortunate
for Mr. Goujon.

Oh, let's leave
his poor, demented soul.

Cor!
Somebody's been here!

- Aah!
- Shh!

To be plain, Mr. Hewitt,
I've come here to get a hint

of where I might look
for the murderer.

Can't say I've thought much

about the Negro
who was seen hanging around.

Well, I think the presence
of the Negro

might be the key
to the whole mystery.

The West Indies, Inspector.

Now, look at them carefully.

Ah, very interesting,
Mr. Hewitt,

but I haven't got time
for a geography lesson.

Well, I think you might profit
from this one.

Haiti, which is there, is in
a perpetual state of turmoil.

There are revolutions
all the time.

President after president
of the vilest sort

forces his way into power

and commits the most horrible

and bloodthirsty excesses
to retain it.

Whole families --
men, women, and children --

are murdered at the instance
of these ruffians.

Mm. Shocking, I'm sure,

but no more than I'd expect
from foreigners.

It's the murder I've got
that worries me.

Well, I think there may be
a connection,

as I have today made
certain inquiries

of an acquaintance
who knows the Caribbean.

And he tells me that the
very worst of these presidents

in recent times was Domingue.

You may have heard of him.
He was quite notorious.

No, I can't say I find
the name familiar.

Oh, he committed
the cruelest bloodshed.

Many of his opponents
sought refuge

on a small island lying
just to the north of Haiti.

But they were sought out
and almost exterminated.

No, no, no, no, no,
this island here.

Now, Inspector,
what is its name?

"Torchiga."

Tortuga.

However, that's only
its old Spanish name.

The Haitians speak French,
Creole French.

They don't call it Tortuga.

- What do they call it?
- La Tortue.

Oh, La Tortue.

Blimey!
The tortoise!

Precisely. "La tortue"
is French for "the tortoise."

Now do you see the drift
of that paper you found?

Punished by an avenger of,
or from,

La Tortue, or The Tortoise!

The dead man had something to do
with these massacres,

and somebody from that island
is avenging it!

I declare, Mr. Hewitt, this is
a most extraordinary thing!

Now, listen -- the name
of Domingue's nephew,

who was chief minister, was...

- Rameau?
- Septimus Rameau.

Cesar Rameau was, in all
probability, his brother.

So, Inspector,
what do you say now?

Well, there's not much
I can say.

I just took it for granted
the note referred

to that wretched tortoise
in the basement.

Yes.

I also called at Rameau's bank.

It seems that Rameau
called there

the day before he was attacked

and removed some valuables
from a deposit box.

Now, from this, I'd infer
he was preparing to leave.

Valuables? You mean those
trinkets he was selling?

Presumably, since they're
nowhere to be found in his room,

it seems likely
his assailant took them.

Well, Mr. Hewitt, I've made
a right fool of a start,

but I'll be after the right man
now.

Yes, I'll be after that Negro.

And I shall be after the man
who removed Rameau's body.

You mean there was two of them?

Oh, I think I should keep
that little secret to myself

for the time being.

You shall know soon.

- Wotcher.
- Oh, hello.

Trade's slack
for this time of day.

Slack?

Why, it's so bad I had to
keep on kicking the old nag

every 10 minutes
just to keep him awake.

Yeah, same with me.

I got a growler
up in the Holborn rank.

Ah, I thought you was a cabby.

- Having holiday?
- Not exactly, no.

I'm looking for a bilker
what done me out of a fare.

Oh, yeah,
there's a lot of them about.

As if it wasn't hard enough
earning an honest trust.

What'd he do?

Well, I picked him up
in Piccadilly,

and he said as how he wanted to
come here.

So he gave me an address
just up the road.

But when we got here,

he runs off and disappears
behind one of those doors,

leaving me whistling
for my fare.

Shocking.

Here, what'd he look like?
I'll keep an eye open.

Yes, you better, 'cause I'm told

that one of the blokes off
this rank carried him recently.

Saturday, I think.

It's likely he'd try
the same dodge again.

You see, he was a tallish chap,
muffled up a lot,

with a long, black overcoat.

Here, now, wait a moment.

Muffled up in a black overcoat.

Yeah, and he had
a soft wide-awake hat

pulled down over his eyes.

You carried him, did you?

No. No, but I can tell you
who did.

Now, Millie, you're quite sure

you understand
what I want you to do?

- Oh, yeah, I got it now, sir.
- Good girl.

Well, here's...

here's a sovereign
for your trouble.

Cor.
Thank you very much, sir.

I'll do it right.
Believe me, I will.

Well, she might understand,
but I'm blowed if I do.

Oh, you shall presently,
Inspector.

Have you got your murderer yet?

No, unless -- Well, Goujon
is still under remand.

He might know something.

Oh, nonsense.
You must let him go.

Now, now, Mr. Hewitt,
I won't be bullied.

Besides, he's all I've got
to show for my trouble.

Then perhaps I can give you
something else.

What?

The man who carried
Rameau's body away.

Rum sort of place.

I thought you said your friend
was in the spirit trade.

Ah, you may have
misunderstood me.

Ah, Mr. Hewitt.

Inspector Nettings,
this is Mr. Perroquet.

Good day, sir.

I'm informed that you can help
me with some inquiries.

I have already rendered
such assistance as I can.

Successfully?

Yes.

But had this been
the genuine article, who knows?

Mr. Hewitt, might I ask
what all that was about?

Hmm?

Oh, the doll?

Oh, I thought it was genuine

until an expert assured me
it was a fake.

Very interesting, I'm sure,

but I thought
you brought me here

to find the man
who carried Rameau's body away.

Yes, indeed, I did.

Inspector Nettings, allow me
to introduce Cesar Rameau.

You're supposed to be dead!

Hardly, Inspector.

My observations led me
to the conclusion

that no murder had, in fact,
been committed.

What observations?

There was a considerable
quantity of blood

lying just below where Millie
found Rameau's body lying,

but no traces between that point
and the door.

And no body could have been
dragged or even carried

without leaving a trail
of bloodstains.

You might have said something.

Well, I wasn't certain

until I discovered
that the towels were missing.

And when I found that his
overcoat, too, was gone,

the conclusion was inescapable.

Mr. Rameau had recovered,
his first thought was flight,

and he walked out of that room
on his own two legs.

Is that not so, Mr. Rameau?

Yes. When I waked,
there's blood all over me.

So I get the towels,
and I wrap my head.

There you are.

But my enemy -- he may return
to make sure I am dead.

Nonsense.

My enemies, my great enemies
politiques --

They put the voodoo curse on me.

I am a great man in my country.

You exaggerate your danger
and your own importance,

not to mention
your enemies' abilities,

though I daresay
you've quite a few.

However,
you're safe enough here.

So, you let yourself down into
the basement by the coal lift.

Yes, they might have seen me
leave by the stairs.

So I hide in the basement
until after dark,

and then I run to the cab rank
at the end of the street.

Yes, I know.

He had some idea of hiding
in the East End,

which was where I found him
after several hours' search.

I have passage booked to America
on a ship which sails today.

I want to be near the docks,
huh?

What's he doing here, then?

I was able to persuade him

that while it's possible
to run away from an enemy,

a curse has to be lifted.

My good friend Perroquet
obliged.

And I don't quite follow,
Mr. Hewitt.

Well, no matter, Inspector.

You have your murder victim.

Well, I won't deny

you've been of some assistance
on this case, Mr. Hewitt,

but I think I can take over
from here.

Now, my good man,
this enemy who attacked you --

I want a complete description.

I not see him.

I lie in bed asleep, and I hear
a noise in the other room.

When I go through,
he attacks me from behind,

and I faint, unconscious.

Unconscious, yes.

Well, I intend to lay hands on
the man who tried to kill you.

It's just possible, Inspector,

that you may do that very thing
tonight.

That should see you warm enough,
Captain.

Oh, much obliged to you, Millie.

Off to your bed now.

Gord, not before time.

- Captain.
- Hmm?

Something's been bothering me.

What's that, Millie?

Well, the day before
old Rameau got murdered,

I went to his room to tidy up.

And there he was
with the carpet out.

He'd rolled it back
to the window,

where the loose floorboard is.

Now, that was a funny thing,
wasn't it?

Hmm. Very odd.

Have you told the inspector?

No. Think I should?

I think you should.

It'll wait till the morning.

- Good night, dear Millie.
- Good night, Captain.

Good evening, Mr. Styles.

Hewitt.
What you doing here?

Waiting for someone to come in,
as you did.

No law against a landlord
visiting his own property.

True.

But it's not done for him

to strike a tenant over the head
with a wood chopper.

You are, I assume,
making another attempt

at finding
Mr. Rameau's valuables.

That damn girl
said she saw Rameau

hiding something here
under the floorboards.

Yes, on my instructions.

She told the same story
to everyone in the house.

But you were the only one

who knew what he
might have been hiding.

So, it's a trap, eh?

Ah, well.

Nothing for it but to own up
and come quietly, eh?

Evening, Mr. Styles.

I'm informed that you can
help me with some inquiries.

Yes, yes, I admit it.
I was tempted.

We all get tempted, eh?

Went into the room
to collect the rent,

saw him sitting at the table,
drinking,

masses of jewelry
spread out before him.

I knew he'd be blind drunk
before long,

drunk and sleeping it off
in the bedroom.

Which you took to be

an excellent opportunity
to rob him.

Well, pretty far gone as he was,

he kept babbling about some
enemy who was gonna kill him.

Guessed it might be
something to do

with the Negro
that Cutler said he'd seen.

You nearly killed him.

Well, I didn't mean to,
Inspector.

You see,
I was searching the place

when Rameau suddenly appeared at
the bedroom door, didn't see me.

I picked up the nearest thing
to hand, hit him,

then heard that damn girl
at the door,

hid in the bedroom
until she'd gone,

then got out as fast as I could.

Without finding
what you'd come for.

You must have been in
considerable panic, Mr. Styles.

Panic.
Yeah, I'd say I was.

Panic, eh?

You were sufficiently
self-possessed

to write that note, sir.

Eh?
I didn't write that note.

And I say you did.

Pinned it to the body
in an attempt to mislead us.

Nothing of the sort, not me.

Then who did write it?

Inspector, might I suggest

that the note
would be best forgotten?

It isn't really essential
to your case.

Oh, I don't know about that,
Mr. Hewitt,

seeing as all the trouble
it's caused.

Well, then I must leave you to
pursue that matter on your own.

Yes,
I'll get to the bottom of it.

Oh, doubtless.

In the meantime,
if you'll excuse me,

I'll report back to my client.

Righto.

Client?

You don't imagine

I've been pursuing this case
out of curiosity.

Now, about this note you left...

A most satisfactory conclusion,
Mr. Hewitt.

I should be happy to settle
your account in due course.

Oh, there's no hurry.

But I do wonder
about that note myself.

Styles denies its authorship.

Presumably it has
some connection

with the Haitian
who was pursuing Mr. Rameau,

the one Captain Cutler saw.

Oh, I doubt it.

You see,
I don't think he exists.

Captain Cutler imagined him?

It occurred to me
that since Rameau was making

such an infernal nuisance
of himself

and since Styles
refused to evict him

that one of the other tenants
might take some action.

The voodoo doll
prompted that thought.

How so, Mr. Hewitt?

Captain Cutler has
some knowledge of the Caribbean

and its customs.

He would well know how to
frighten Rameau into leaving,

especially if he concocted
some story

about a Black stranger
lurking in the vicinity.

A very ingenious theory,
Mr. Hewitt.

But I, too, saw the Negro
watching the building.

Then my theory crumbles
in ruins.

There remains the question
of the note.

The handwriting told me little.

The ink and notepaper, however,
were quite distinctive.

The ink was violet,

and the paper was of a fine
parchment, slightly scented.

I imagine both
must be quite common.

Oh, indeed, yes.

The note you sent
summoning me the other day

matches the combination exactly.

What will you do now,
Mr. Hewitt?

With your permission,
take my leave.

Mr. Hewitt.

- About the note --
- Ah, yes.

Its author can take comfort
from the thought

that Inspector Nettings

is actively investigating
its source of origin

and will, in all probability,

be doing so
until the day he retires.

Thank you.

Oh, there's one other thing.

I thought you
might like to keep this

as a souvenir
of the affair of the tortoise.

Good night, Mr. Hewitt.

Good night, Miss Chapman.

Well, Styles still denied
he wrote it.

I don't know.

I seem to have made a lot of
mistakes on this case.

Your mind can't be expected

to work at concert pitch
all the time, Inspector.

That's a fact.

I've got it!

That note was written

by the chap who's been seen
watching Rameau's rooms

for the past week!

Why, once I've got him,
I've solved the case!

Congratulations, Inspector.

You finally struck form.