All language subtitles for T.R.o.S.H.S02E01.The.Mysterious.Death.on.the.Underground.Railway.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H264-playWEB_track3_[eng]

I do beg your pardon.

This is the right train
for Aldersgate, is it not?

Aldersgate, by all means, ma'am.

Aldersgate, of course.

Oh, allow me.

Oh, thank you.

What a relief.

You see, I have an appointment

in St. Paul's churchyard
at 5 o'clock.

Ma'am, it is only
a quarter past 4:00.

You have plenty of time.

I thank you.

My dear, what a happy surprise!

Dear.

No wonder Laura prefers to ride
on the omnibus.

Oh!

Oh, my eye.

Oh, it was a cinder.

Easy.

How kind of you.

Thank you, my dear.

These tubes.

I think this must be
Farringdon Street.

Perhaps you'd better, oh!

Oh, thank you.

Farringdon Street!

This is Farringdon
Street Station!

All change here, please!

All change!

I must apologize, ma'am.

This train certainly
should have gone

straight through to Aldersgate.

This is Farringdon Street!

Hurry along, if you please.

Come along, then, lady.

Where are you for?

In late
Victorian times,

there were many detectives,

The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes.

Only when the burly shadows
of the two police constables

fell across the tracks did
the scattered passengers

realize something was amiss.

Turgid stuff.

Now, if only I were
writing that article.

You'd give us all the
salient facts, eh, Polly,

what the well-dressed inspector
is wearing?

What'll it be today?

Silverside, if you please,
and carrots and peas pudding.

You take my advice, Polly.

You stick to the
fashion columns.

You meet a better class
of person there, you know?

Mutton and boiled
for me, please, miss.

Besides, you do it so well, Pol,

all that about Lady
Thingummy's hat

and Miss What-You-May-Call-It's
sunshade.

Not to mention a rather
neat little sally

from the Bishop of Madagascar.

Very well, Sergeant Frobisher,
have your laugh out.

Don't you want any pudding, Pol?

No, thank you, Sergeant,
and neither do you.

Ah, I thought perhaps
a treacle tart.

Very bad for your concentration.

I mean, a fella could never
catch all that clever detail,

Pol, not the way you do it.

If you want my opinion,
the Echo's very lucky

to have a girl like
you on its staff.

Now, what we really need
is a firsthand account.

Look here, Pol.

There's a matinée tomorrow.

From someone who was
working on the spot.

It's at the Palace Theater.

Presumably in touch
with the police.

It's with Maud Allan.

But who concentrates
on the facts?

Polly, I wondered if
you'd care to go with me.

Oh, of course I would, Richard.

Now, when do you go on duty?

Oh, not until 6:00.

That leaves us plenty
of time for the matinée,

and then I thought afterwards--

Oh, bother the matinée.

When do you go on
duty at the mortuary?

The mortuary.

Polly.

6 in the evening.

That will suit me very well.

I want to be able
to tell my readers

exactly what she looks like,
every article of her dress.

They don't want
to know all that.

Oh, of course they do, Richard.

They want to know
what perfume she uses,

- how she did her hair.
- Well, steady on,

so far, we don't
even know her name.

In that case,
Sergeant Frobisher,

perhaps the Echo might be
able to help you find out.

Oh, bother!

One of my afternoons
with Uncle Arthur.

Then you'll never get away.

Oh, but tomorrow,
after the matinée,

- you could come along.
- Oh, I shall simply

have to insist.

You know what he's like.

I have an idea.

Richard.

By the way, does he
still eat monkey-nuts?

Furthermore, inasmuch as
your unfortunate client

has not only placed himself
fundamentally on the wrong side

of the law.

Double L before the Y,
if you please, Polly.

But has demonstrably been
driven and driven hard

by blind and reckless greed.

Is that a full stop,
Uncle Arthur?

Certainly not.

And, Polly, while it may be true

that I allowed your mother

shamelessly to prevail
upon me to employee you

as my amanuensis, it is
scarcely necessary for you

to remind me of our relationship
each time you address me.

But, Uncle, I don't--

But me no buts and
uncle me no Uncles.

Ah!

Mm.

Now, where was I?

Driven hard by blind
and reckless greed.

Precisely.

Never forget, Polly, that
in nine cases out of 10,

the key to any crime is money.

Try to remember that,

if you forget everything
else I try to teach you.

Cui bono, isn't that the
expression, Sir Arthur?

Who stands to gain?

Precisely what we
have here are tricks

to make it appear
a crime of passion,

heartbreak for the dying
mother, all utter bunkum!

What they were
after was the money!

Am I right?

Beyond question, Sir Arthur.

Mm.

Well, we must hope
that this letter

frightens old Richardson enough.

We haven't a hope of proving
a word of it in court.

But surely, if you know
that someone is guilty.

Worthless, my dear Polly.

The law isn't interested
in what we know,

but in what we can prove.

You mean a guilty person
might go free?

If nothing can be proven,
of course.

How else can the law work?

Oh, there must be witnesses.

Witnesses can disappear or
simply not come forward.

Because they're afraid?

Sometimes.

If a murderer knew you
had evidence against him,

would not you be afraid, Polly?

Hmm, certainly not.

I intend to report the
truth to my readers

exactly as the police find it.

Very laudable, my dear.

Ah!

Oriental wine gums,

safely hidden from
Mrs. Judson's mop

by Hallway's Laws of
England, Volume Twelve.

Underground mystery!

Who's the lovely lady?

Absolutely bedlam
in the chambers

since they built that viaduct.

They brought the lady
in last night, you know.

There's been quite a crowd
to view her body all day.

Ghouls, my dear Polly, ghouls.

The phenomenon of human
nature at once deeply rooted

and deeply to be deplored.

The secret of success in the
legal profession, you see,

is a knowledge of psychology.

Underground mystery!

Who's the lovely lady?

Read the whole story!

Oh, I know, Sir Arthur,

but they do say that
she's the loveliest corpse

that Holborn has ever seen.

Underground mystery!

Who's the lovely lady?

Could you help us, please?

My sister has disappeared.

And I thought just possibly.

You'd like to view the
lady found on the railway.

Yes, if you'll just sign your
name, sir, in the register.

Good evening.

Is Sergeant Frobisher.

You're Miss Burton, is it?

Yeah, straight
through that door.

Thank you.

Was yesterday the 12th?

The 13th.

Oh, hello, Polly.

Have you had a
look at her, then?

Yes, I have.

Come sit down.

There must be somebody.

There must be somebody
who could tell us

who she was, yes.

You might think
so, mightn't you?

Thank you, Constable.

70, 80 people walked through
there today and gaped at her.

You might think one of them

would be able to
tell us her name.

Are those her belongings?

Oh, yes.

Have a look for yourself, Pol.

We could do with an
inspired womanly guess.

Less of the womanly,
Sergeant Frobisher,

unless you fancy an inspired
clout round the head.

I see.

Had a trying afternoon, have we?

Gloves from Hepton's,

shoes from Lilly's
of Bond Street.

That man is insufferable,
if you really want to know.

All very tasteful and expensive.

What was in her handbag?

What?

Oh, very little
of much use to us,

smelling salts, loose
change, ticket to Aldersgate.

Peppermint.

What do you think these are?

Probably simple cachous.

The analyst has taken
a sample, just in case.

In case she took poison,
is that the theory?

There were no signs
of a struggle.

Lily of the valley.

Her own, I take it.

And this is a
man's handkerchief.

Perhaps she borrowed it.

From her husband.

I wonder why.

Initials.

Look. F.E.

Could your men have missed that?

Better go out there, Sergeant.

A young gentleman
has just collapsed.

He seems to have
recognized the lady.

Oh, beg your pardon, sir.

Who's he?

What happened?

I am Laura Stanley.

Miss Stanley.

The dead woman is
my sister, Beatrice.

Chair, Thornton.

Please sit down, Miss Stanley.

You're certain?

I'm sure.

This is Mr. William Hazeldene.

He is my sister's husband.

Hazeldene?

William has been in
France on business.

We live in the same house,

so naturally I was troubled
when Beatrice did not return

from her shopping expedition.

This was last night, the 13th?

Yes.

And then I saw the
announcement in the newspaper.

It was the cape,

the mention of a sable
cape lined with blue.

Mr. Hazeldene returned
from France this evening?

The boat train
was late, you see.

I was very worried because.

We were going to the opera
tonight, my wife and I.

They're giving Tristan.

I'm sorry.

I met William at Victoria
and showed him the newspaper.

We agreed the best thing to do

was to come and
see for ourselves.

I think the inquest
will be time enough

for further questions,
Mr. Hazeldene.

Naturally, we do not wish
to add to your distress.

But I must ask you to step over

and formally identify your wife.

Yes.

Yes, of course, Sergeant.

I cannot grasp it yet.

I cannot fully understand it.

Yes, that is my wife.

Miss Stanley, why did you
not come here earlier?

Was it because
you were not sure?

I simply lacked the courage.

- Oh.
- What is it, miss?

Frank Errington.

I thought I caught a
glimpse of Frank Errington.

Please, excuse us.

Certainly.

Come, William.

Frank Errington.

F.E.

And how long have you been
married, Mr. Hazeldene?

More than
six years, sir.

Six years.

And how many
children do you have?

We have no children.

That must have been
distressing for both of you.

Indeed, we'd, I'd always
hoped for a child.

And your wife?

She also hoped?

She would have been
pleased, naturally.

However, her health
was uncertain.

I see.

In what way uncertain,
Mr. Hazeldene?

Her heart was never strong.

And a few weeks ago.

She had a severe bout
of influenza, did she not?

She was ill, certainly.

As to severe.

You would not consider
it serious, then?

Dr. Jones gave his assurance.

Well, no doubt, her physician
will tell us more about that

in a moment.

- Good morning, Sergeant.
- But had you any reason.

Does Sir Arthur
know you're here?

I'm in bed with inflamed
tonsils and a temperature.

Nothing catching, I hope.

And would you describe your
marriage as, on the whole,

a happy one, Mr. Hazeldene?

Most happy, sir.

I'm wondering, you see,

whether you had any
reason, however slight,

to suspect she might make
an attempt on her own life.

I cannot think of
such a thing unless.

You see, Beatrice was
always the most vivacious,

she found life tremendous fun,

she had so much laughter in her.

But lately, it sometimes
seemed to Laura, to her sister,

but also to me that
that she'd lost.

But it's my own fault.

I got my partnership
this last year.

Sometimes I have to be away
from home for several days.

When I came back, I'd find
her sitting in the dark,

in the drawing room,
wrapped into herself,

brooding over
something or other.

You know of no solid
grounds for this distress?

You were not aware of
any financial difficulty,

for instance?

My wife had independent
money of her own.

She was well provided for.

And in your absence,

was there no friend to
whom she might have turned?

She had her sister,
Laura, no friend.

You were away a
good deal, it seems.

Was there any acquaintance

to whom you might have
taken some exception?

I know of no such friend.

Thank you, Mr. Hazeldene.

That will be all for the moment.

That man is lying to save
his wife's reputation.

Of course she had a friend,

that wild-looking fellow
we saw at the mortuary,

name of Frank Errington.

That wild-looking fellow's name

happens to be James Travis,

and he's a rather
dotty male nurse.

How do you know?

Routine check, Polly.

It seems every time a
pretty girl is brought in,

he turns up to gaze at her.

He's quite well-known.

Are you sure that
he couldn't have--

Look, he couldn't have had
anything to do with it, Polly.

He was on duty that afternoon.

And as Mrs. Hazeldene's
personal physician,

you assisted the
district medical officer

in making the
postmortem examination?

Yes, sir, I did.

And what conclusion
did you reach?

Death was due to failure
of the heart, sir,

brought about by
the administration

of a quantity of
hydrocyanic acid.

Commonly known as
prussic acid, is it not?

In solution, sir, yes.

Peppermints.

When you say a quantity?

Not less than 30 grains, sir,

enough to kill at
least two or three men.

And in the lady's
satchel you found?

Traces of prussic
acid, yes, we did.

The tablets that were there?

The tablets contained
hydrated magnesium carbonate

and oil of mint, sir.

In other words, merely
a stomach remedy.

Exactly, sir.

Nevertheless, I
take it your opinion

is that the lady
caused her own death

by swallowing this
dangerous drug.

Pardon me, sir, but I never
suggested such a thing.

Not?

I thought we were
to understand--

We have no idea how the drug
may have been administered,

but it was manifestly
not swallowed.

What makes you?

Well, there was not a
vestige of it in the stomach.

Thank you, Dr. Jones.

Are there any questions?

Bardwell and Rudge, sir,
for Mrs. Hazeldene's estate.

Dr. Jones, surely you
must have some idea

how the substance was introduced
into Mrs. Hazeldene's body.

Well, sir, you may
not find this probable

in the circumstances,

but we think by some
sort of injection.

Thank you.

And could that have been
given before Mrs. Hazeldene

- boarded the train?
- Definitely not.

Death in such cases is
absolutely sudden and crushing,

a quick convulsion,
perhaps, but no more.

Thank you, sir.

Thank you, Dr. Jones.

Could we hear Miss
Laura Stanley now?

Of course it was
murder, Richard.

Polly, don't you
think we ought to wait

for the coroner's verdict
before you leap to conclusions?

Do you suppose that she
could have simply sat there

in front of half a
dozen passengers and--

What about someone
committing murder

in front of those
same passengers?

Now, the least you
could do is make a start

by looking at that
man's handkerchief.

Perhaps we ought to put an
advertisement in the Echo.

Shh!

Yes, we were very close.

Beatrice was only
two years younger.

As children, we shared
everything together.

When Father died, that
was almost a year ago,

Beatrice insisted I
move into her house.

And her husband was more
than kind to me there.

And during the weeks
before your sister's death,

did you notice a
change in her demeanor?

I know that she
missed Will very much.

Oh, of course, of course.

Now, perhaps you would
tell us something

about the last hours
in your sister's life.

When Will was abroad, she
and I would take breakfast

together in the morning room.

We talked of her
plans for the day.

We expected him home
in a day or two,

and Beatrice wanted
to look her best.

She was being fitted
for a new gown.

They were going to the opera.

She had an appointment
with her hairdresser.

Do you know the
address, Miss Stanley?

She goes to Hempler's in
St. Paul's Churchyard.

And at what
time did she leave home?

Not until after lunch.

She had meant to go in
the morning at first.

Oh?

And what prevented her?

She received a visit from,

well,

from a friend of the family.

At any rate, she decided to--

Would you tell us
the friend's name?

Yes, I could.

It was Frank Errington.

Mr. Errington.

He was a frequent visitor
at your brother-in-laws?

He came often enough
to Addison Row.

And how long was his
visit on this occasion?

He stayed nearly two hours.

Seems rather a lengthy
visit, wouldn't you say?

Not particularly, sir,
not for Mr. Errington.

Miss Stanley, am I to gather
that you do not much care

for Mr. Errington?

I have no feelings about
him one way or the other.

If my brother-in-law wasn't
worried about his visits,

then they certainly
were no concern of mine.

Laura, for pity's sake!

So, there was nothing
irregular in the gentleman's

visiting the house in
Mr. Hazeldene's absence?

- Nothing whatever.
- That is all

I'm trying to
establish, Miss Stanley.

Any questions, gentlemen?

If it please the court.

Miss Stanley,

were you present at
Mr. Errington's interview

with Mrs. Hazeldene
that morning?

Yes, I was present.

And was anything said or done

that might have a bearing
on your sister's death?

Not to my knowledge.

And the purpose of this visit?

Mr. Errington was
going on a journey.

He had come to say goodbye.

Was this to be
a journey of some length?

I believe he was
going to Ceylon.

- Thank you, Miss Stanley.
- You'll observe, Polly,

we are not letting the
grass grow under our feet.

Errington's address.

58 Outer Branches.

I'm getting a warrant to search
the gentleman's apartment.

About time, too.

I want you to stay here, Polly.

Sergeant Frobisher,

you are not to obstruct
the freedom of the press.

Now, look here, Polly.

That is, if you wish me to
go with you to that matinée.

Thoroughly pleasant gentleman
is Mr. Errington, sir.

Very sorry we are to see him go.

You don't expect him back, then?

Very sorry, indeed.

Is he moving out for good?

Could always give you a
good tip on the horses,

could Mr. Errington.

I will say that for him.

Wasn't it a bit sudden of
him to rush off to Ceylon

at this particular moment?

Ah, now you have hit the
nail on the head, young lady,

and no mistake.

And there's plenty of us who
sympathize with his decision,

and let me tell you.

Oh, really?

He has plenty of friends,
has Mr. Errington,

as you'll soon see.

Lady friends, as
well, would you say?

Never a one, sir.

That's my gospel belief.

Well, never one to give
any trouble, anyway,

until she came along.

Come on, this way.

Check the other rooms,
would you, Thornton?

Man he was, know
something about all kinds

of things you'd never expect,
animal, vegetable, or mineral.

So, she gave him a lot
of trouble, did she?

Would not leave him alone,
sir, not at any price.

Always running after him,
hollering at him,

sobbing she couldn't
go on without him.

You know, you're quite right
about his general knowledge.

You could hear it
right down in my basement,

and that's a sodding fact.

You know, there's a whole
section here, Richard,

on music, operas, plays,

and then this lot
seems to be historical,

and these seem to be scienti...

She was a married
woman, too, you know.

Never even troubled
to take off her ring.

Scandalous if you
was to ask me, sir.

I wouldn't stir out of my
cubicle in the nighttime

to let that one out.

Do you happen to know her name?

Oh, well, I've got my
brass work to polish.

Let me know when you're
off, and I'll lock up.

Was this the woman?

- Richard!
- Oh.

Here you are.

Would not leave him alone, sir.

Obviously, Errington
got tired of her.

Hmm.

Why should he want to kill her?

Why not just for the wickedness?

Richard, come and look at these.

The New Science of Toxicology,
three volumes,

The Usages of Venomation, Civil
and Barbaric,two volumes.

Come and have a look, sir.

The Point Envenomed Too,
A History of Poisons.

There's hydrochloric,
sir, nitric, sulfuric,

enough to launch
a chemist's shop.

Carry on, Hobbs.

Over here.

Have a sniff, Pol.

Bitter almonds.

Isn't it rather peculiar of him

to leave all this
stuff lying around?

This man enjoys
taking risks, Polly.

After all, did he not choose
to kill her on a railway train

in the middle of the afternoon?

Come on, Thornton.

He could have reached
Marseilles by now.

Hobbs?

Richard,

do you realize I have the best
newspaper story in London?

And you're not printing
one word of it, Polly,

until we have Frank Errington
behind bars.

Sorry.

Ah!

Oh, Uncle Arthur,
I must tell you!

We have solved the
underground railway case!

- Have you, indeed?
- Well, that is to say

that Sergeant Frobisher is
well on the way to solving it.

Polly, there is an
important client waiting.

We've got an urgent
new case on hand.

We've 101 things to do,
and you're 14 minutes late.

Oh, Uncle Arthur, please
do sit down and listen.

We have been to
Errington's apartments.

The porter there tells us
that he was carrying on

an affair with a married lady,

and we found a picture
of her there, too.

Next, what do you say to
this, in Errington's bathroom,

we find shelves full
of acids and poisons.

An interesting chain
of circumstance.

Pure theory, of course,
but interesting.

Well, Sergeant Frobisher
thinks it will put a rope

around the man's neck.

All we have to do is
catch up with him.

This evening, they are to
telegraph every port in Europe.

Let us hope the good sergeant

is not spending the
taxpayers' money in vain.

This eloquent porter, Polly,

would you say he's an
utterly dependable source?

Well, he is rather an oddity.

You have, no doubt, a
really solid witness,

one who a passenger,
for instance,

who witnessed the tragedy?

Well, if there were
any such passengers,

they seem in no hurry
to come forward.

I see, and this poison
store you have discovered,

people use such materials for
many reasons, do they not?

Whether as photographers,
gardeners, entomologists?

Yes, but this man has a
whole library on poisons.

Ah, he has?

Now, that is of interest.

In that case, you will
have no doubt discovered

how the poison was administered.

Oh, well, at the moment,
we're not quite sure.

Then you will allow
me to enlighten you.

By the simplest means, my dear,

one known to every scoundrel
in southern Europe,

by means of a poison
ring like this.

Oh, but, Uncle, where
did you get this?

I went to look at your
lovely lady this afternoon.

You did?

- Mm hm.
- But why?

I found a small mark just
above her left wrist,

apparently unnoticed
by the police surgeon.

It was made by something
like that ring.

Oh, but I don't see.

Oh.

What has it to do
with you, Sir Arthur?

I've had to be busy.

I told you I've got an
urgent new case on hand.

You tell me Sergeant
Frobisher is scouring Europe

for Frank Errington.

Allow me to present him to you.

Mr. Errington,

my niece, Miss Burton.

My dear Mr. Errington
read the morning papers

as he was about to
embark at Southampton.

He was at once convinced
he would be arrested,

and so he returned to London

and very wisely placed
himself in my hands.

How do you do?

Sir Arthur, you're not going
to take this case, are you?

Most certainly.

I've every intention of
representing Mr. Errington,

if necessary at the
Old Bailey itself.

Now, my dear,

would you, like the
good girl you are,

kindly make us a
nice cup of tea?

Mr. Hazeldene, to
your wife's receiving visits

from the prisoner at the bar?

Mr. Errington was one of
Beatrice's friends, yes.

And as such, he did
visit our house.

Frequently, would you say?

He came fairly often.

And staying late.

Upon occasion.

You knew that, in your absence,

he escorted your wife to
the theater and elsewhere?

He did.

You must speak up,
sir, if you please.

I knew that he did.

What were your feelings
on these occasions, sir?

I was happy if my wife
could go out sometimes.

Your maid, Emma Watson,

has testified that you were
often downcast and depressed

on discovering such
expeditions had occurred.

I think that is a
servant's exaggeration.

With some truth in it, perhaps?

I think not.

I put it to you, Mr. Hazeldene,

that you were jealous of your
wife, as who would not be?

You resented this man
squiring her here and there.

Certainly not.

I did not myself care
particularly for the gentleman,

but I did not
think it was for me

to criticize my wife's friends.

Thank you, Mr. Hazeldene.

Sir Arthur, do you?

No, thank you, my lord.

You may step down.

Ah, Polly.

I trust your efforts at
research were fruitful.

Call Miss Laura Stanley.

Call Miss Laura Stanley!

Curiously strong
peppermints, coconut tines,

treacle toffees, and
old-fashioned humbugs.

Sir Arthur, I have something
very important to tell you.

Not now, Polly.

- I managed to find out--
- - Shh!

So that, when Errington
called on that last morning

of your sister's life,
you were present.

I was there, yes.

And heard him tell her

that he was leaving
for Ceylon at once?

Indeed.

And how did this news
affect your sister?

Well, she warned him
if he persisted in going,

she would cause
him to regret it.

Now, Miss Stanley, I ask
you to be most careful.

Are you certain
those were her words?

She spoke very low, but yes.

She was not looking at him,

but at a picture that
hangs in the morning room,

a copy of Mr. Ford
Maddox Brown's painting,

The Last of England.

Perhaps you know it.

It is a picture of a
young man and woman

sailing away together to a
new continent, is it not?

Yes, it is.

And what do you think
was in your sister's mind

as she was looking at the
picture, Miss Stanley?

I will withdraw that question.

She wanted him to
take her with him.

- My lord!
- No further questions.

Jury will disregard
both the final question

and its answer.

Sir Arthur?

Miss Stanley, you tell us your
sister warned Mr. Errington

against leaving the country.

Yes, that is right.

What could she have
possibly meant by that?

She had loaned him a
good deal of money.

I took it she meant to
insist on being repaid.

In other words, it was a threat.

I would say so.

I see.

And then did this Mr.
Errington turn on her,

did he cry out he
would murder her

if she dared to
threaten him, or what?

Oh, my lord, I do protest
against these histrionics.

You must restrain your
flights of fancy, Sir Arthur.

Indeed, my lord.

What, Miss Stanley, was
Mr. Errington's reaction?

He didn't say anything.

He just bowed and
left the house.

Did he look furiously angry?

He was taken aback
a little, I think.

Well, as you must
have been, yourself,

by your sister's vehemence.

I.

Well, after all, to mutter
threats at an old friend.

- It was quite--
- With her back to him.

- It was quite--
- Looking at a picture.

It was quite out
of her character.

And must have made a
strong impression upon you.

Yes.

Yes, I suppose I
was quite alarmed.

Indeed.

And yet, only 48 hours later,

you were asked at the
inquest to think carefully

whether or not anything had
happened at that interview

which might be of importance,
and you replied, nothing.

To the best of my
knowledge, nothing whatever.

Well, naturally, it never
occurred to me that--

What?

That Mr. Errington could
be capable of murder?

Never, but--

In fact, it was altogether
against his character,

- was it not?
- Yes, but I--

No further questions, my lord.

- But.
- The witness may answer.

I was only going to
say that I did not know

about his interest in poisons.

One moment, my lord!

Could we examine exhibit
five, I think it is,

the volume on poisons?

Miss Stanley, I do thank
you for reminding me.

The New Science of Toxicology.

Miss Stanley, do
you know this work?

Yes.

Barbaric and Civil
Usages.

There are penciled initials
on the flyleaf, G.L.S.

Do you know whose they are?

May I see the book?

By all means.

Well, Miss Stanley?

This was one of
my father's books.

In fact, several of them
are his, Miss Stanley.

I had no idea.

Nor of how they came into
Mr. Errington's hands?

None.

And yet, much has been made

of Mr. Errington's
interest in poisons,

even though, to my mind, his
explanation of those items

is more than satisfactory.

He is a geologist.

Is it not for that very
pursuit he was visiting Ceylon?

My lord, really.

You must not make
speeches, Sir Arthur,

as you know perfectly well.

Your lordship is,
as always, my tutor.

No further questions, my lord.

Call Mr. Andrew Campbell.

- Call Mr. Andrew Campbell!
- Who the devil?

It seems this witness has
just come forward, Sir Arthur.

But I know of no such.

This is your solid witness.

He was on the train.

What position do
you hold, Mr. Campbell?

I am
managing director of

of Mincing Lane.

And your
company's function?

We consider ourselves
the stockbroker's broker.

Just so.

Now, on the afternoon of
Tuesday, March the 13th,

were you in a first-class
compartment of a train

on the Metropolitan Railway?

Yes, sir, I was.

Was Beatrice
Hazeldene a passenger

in that same compartment,
Mr. Campbell?

Yes, sir.

I believe I must have
witnessed the whole affair.

Oh, I must get a message
to the to the Echo.

You're not sitting in
the press seats, Polly.

You're here as my assistant.

Oh, but, Sir Arthur, please.

Sit down, Polly.

Have some treacle toffee.

You were aware of Mrs.
Hazeldene, you say.

Was she alone?

She was undoubtedly alone
when she boarded the train,

but just as we were pulling out,

a man got into the carriage.

She seemed to know him well.

They talked and laughed a
little as the train moved on.

Well, could you describe
this man for us?

Certainly.

He was of medium height,

neither fair nor
particularly dark.

He wore a tweed suit
and a bowler hat.

Mr. Campbell, would
you know him again?

Beyond question.

He is that man in the dock.

Feel quite
sorry for Sir Arthur.

It's not like him to
back a loser, is it?

Of course, we still have to
hear his cross-examination.

Though from the way
he flung out of court.

It's open and shut, Polly.

Your man provided the means.

The sister provided the motive.

Mm.

She did, didn't she?

Your dinner's
getting cold, Polly.

Richard, you don't think

- that she could--
- Besides,

we've heard Errington,

he doesn't offer the
trace of an alibi.

He just says he left the house

and wandered around
Kensington Park.

Nobody saw him.

Nobody knows positively
where he was for hours.

True enough.

- But still.
- Then again,

look at the clues.

Richard, don't you think
there are too many clues?

I mean, pots of
poison, a handkerchief,

If he is guilty,

he must be the most careless
criminal there ever was.

Precisely, Polly.

I'm glad you see it at last.

Sergeant Frobisher,

do you think it seemly
for a prosecution witness

to be lunching with assistant
counsel for the defense?

I'm just a policeman,
Sir Arthur,

behaving helpfully to a
gentleman of the press.

Then be so good as to
fetch me a cup of coffee.

Oh.

Very well, sir.

And while you're up,

perhaps just the smallest
portion of baked jam roll.

Now, Polly,

my clerk has procured
this from Covent Garden.

It's an advertisement
for the current season.

Could you use your young eyes

to tell me what piece was
given on the 14th of March?

On the 14th of March.

It's a Wednesday.

There was no
performance that night.

Indeed!

Now, that is of
interest, is it not?

Now, if only this
could be delivered.

Oh, I shall take care
of it, of course.

That is kind, my niece,

but I don't think I
could ask that of you.

Sir Arthur,

if I am to help Mr.
Errington in any way at all,

I think you should trust me to.

Even if it were to
bring you face-to-face

with the real murderer?

Consider, Polly.

You mean I might actually
get an interview?

Possibly a very
dangerous interview.

Never mind that.

Just give me the envelope.

Ah!

Thank you, sir.

Well, Sir Arthur, it'll
be interesting to see

how you refute this
latest witness.

Ah, yes, the
stockbroker's broker.

Mm.

Mm.

We are all deeply indebted
to you, Mr. Campbell,

for having come forward,
even at this 11th hour,

to tell us of that
astonishing journey

on the underground railway.

To have in court a witness
to the act of murder,

that is indeed a privilege
given to few of us

in this imperfect world.

You are to be congratulated.

Not at all.

Mr. Campbell, you have
described to us with care

the impression made upon
you by this exquisite woman.

Make us richer still.

Give us some idea
what she was wearing.

- Wearing, sir?
- Yes, wearing.

Oh, I am no
connoisseur of frills.

Give just a hint as
to her style of dress.

The color, for example.

She wore green
for the most part.

Forest dark, rich and heavy,

or paler than
grass, light as air?

Velvet, it would be,
and a heavy velvet hat.

With plumes or without?

Yes, plumes, one
of those bird hats.

A cape, dolman or pelisse,

Eastern or Western
in inspiration?

Oh, a long wrap of some kind.

Still in green?

Yes, bright green.

A tunic, a suiting, could
you see the lady's neck?

- A blouse?
- No, I could not.

Jewelry?

- Yes.
- Ah.

A rather beautiful
pendant, some bracelets.

So, on that terrible day, could
we see exhibit 15, please?

Mrs. Hazeldene was wearing,
you vividly remember,

a dark green velvet dress
with jewelry and a plumed hat.

That was it, yes.

My lord, with your permission,

these are the very clothes
the lady was actually wearing

on that occasion.

Do you still see this
as green, Mr. Campbell?

Not in
this light, I admit.

Is this hat in
this, or any other light,

a heavy velvet hat with plumes?

It must
have been the brooch.

That you mistook
for the hat, perhaps,

or that appeared to be a
pendant and a few bracelets?

I told you I am no connoisseur.

It was by no means that
easy to distinguish the.

No, no, please continue.

It was very smoky, you know,

and I was reading my newspaper.

Frankly, I do not gawp
at people in trains

like some Peeping Tom.

Yet you gawped at
Mr. Errington, it seems.

You peeped at the prisoner,
did you not?

And yet the lady
sitting opposite you

was not easy to see
in the smoke.

You were not able to recollect

a single article of her attire,

and yet you dare swear,
under your oath,

that the man sitting
to your right

and therefore only seen out
of the corner of your eye,

and in the same dark and smoke

is none other than the man
before you in the dock!

I ask you again, Mr. Campbell,

of Campbell and Swanson,

can you be certain
upon your oath?

It looked like him.

- The newspaper said--
- The newspaper said

a man had been apprehended.

And you assumed it must
have been the man you saw.

Perhaps.

I'm not certain.

Thank you, Mr. Campbell.

The witness is excused.

My lord, even as my
learned friends saw fit

to spring upon us
this last witness,

so I, may it please the court,

have prepared a small surprise.

This envelope contains an
essential piece of evidence.

But it is late already.

Perhaps an adjournment
may be in order

so that the prosecution
may not be, as I was,

met with ground
quite unprepared.

I will gladly
adjourn the court

until tomorrow morning.

Poor old Campbell.

He was only trying to
tell us what he saw.

Thought he saw.

There is such a thing as being
too certain, isn't there?

Still, even without
his evidence,

we still have a pretty
strong case, don't you think?

Oh.

Thank you, Richard,
for coming this far.

I must write up my notes
as soon as I get home.

You might care to know
that whichever way it goes,

I still get my
inspector's course.

Oh.

Oh, you deserve it, Richard.

I am happy for you.

Look, Polly, are you sure
you don't want me to come

- with you on the train?
- No, thank you, Sergeant.

I can take care of myself.

Are you sure, Polly?

I know what I
wanted to tell you.

They liked my story on the Echo.

On Monday, I start a trial
assignment to the crime column.

Does that mean we'll be
seeing more of each other?

Well, I hope so.

Ah.

Don't wait.

Goodbye, Richard.

Now, look here, Polly, I...

Good night.

Oh.

What are you doing here?

Miss Burton, is it not?

Assistant to the
redoubtable Sir Arthur.

This is my usual journey
home to West Kensington.

I had the impression that
you left the Old Bailey

in a hansom with your sister.

Indeed, we did.

But I dropped off.

I trust Sir Arthur
noticed the cab, also.

I must say, I found
his presentation of poor Frank's case

quite astonishing.

His cross-examination in
particular is quite lethal,

is it not?

Sir Arthur certainly knows
how to demolish a lie.

One must never underestimate
a clever lawyer.

I must say, if I were
ever in the dark.

It makes one rather curious

as to the rabbit he's to
pull out of tomorrow's hat.

Errington's complicity seems
clear enough on the face of it.

Not entirely ethical, I suppose,

but...

Opera tickets?

Your servant recovered them
from the wastepaper basket.

Unluckily, Mr. Hazeldene,

there was no performance
the night you returned home.

Your tickets were for
the previous night.

And Mr. Campbell remembered
that passenger saying,

"Don't be late this evening."

It could have only
been you, couldn't it?

You killed your own wife.

How could you?

She was an ill woman,
Miss Burton.

The postmortem was bungled.

It could only have been
a matter of months,

then I would have come
into her property.

Cui bono, who stands to gain?

I beg your pardon?

An expression of Sir Arthur's.

It was Beatrice's father
who set you up in business,

- wasn't it?
- Yes.

I was a shipping clerk
when I met her.

I didn't have a penny.

I see.

And your company got
into difficulties?

Yes.

Surely, you could
have asked your wife.

Beatrice had little faith
in my business acumen.

I see.

And her sister?

Ah, Laura.

She understands me.

Enough to lie for you,
apparently.

She told the police
that you arrived home--

Such a waste, really,
lending Frank those books.

That you arrived home
the following night.

Studying his build, carriage,

so as to suggest
to a stranger that...

But Sir Arthur has rather
dented that alibi of mine.

I have to find another.

You must see that, Miss Burton.

It's no use threatening me,
you know.

Sir Arthur guesses the truth.

But without these, will
not be able to prove it.

Besides, when another body
is discovered on the railway,

would it not seem that a new
Jack the Ripper is abroad?

Once more, attention
will be diverted

from the bereaved widower,

at least until I can
claim my inheritance

and set my affairs in order.

You'll feel nothing,
Miss Burton.

My poor Beatrice
suffered not at all.

I do promise you that.

Now, if you'll simply
give me your hand.

Polly!

- For God's sake!
- Where the devil

is the girl?

Oh, here she is.

First-rate, isn't it?

Exactly as I conceived it on
the basis of my hypothesis.

Sir Arthur, if you
will stand aside,

my men can attend to their work.

Yeah, he's quite dead,
of course.

Oh, Richard.

Sir Arthur,

did you know that man might
attempt to Kill Polly?

To know is one thing,
but to be able to prove it,

Sergeant...

Besides, she's a
resourceful girl.

I ought to put you under arrest.

Oh, Sergeant.

About your proposal
earlier this evening.

About my what?

One cannot help admiring
the cheek of the man,

don't you agree?

Oh, of course it
helped him no end.

Errington tried to
leave the country.

As I've always said, Polly,

a knowledge of basic human
behavior is essential,

indispensable to the legal mind.