All language subtitles for Father Brown - S01E03-eng

Mr Leonard, sir!

Sahib? Sahib?

Sahib!

What is it?

What do you want?

I was pruning the hedges
in the garden,

and I saw something terrible.

Mr Leonard, I'm afraid
you're going to die today.

(4 Organ playing)

(Woman sings out of tune)
♪ Praise for the springing

♪ Fresh from the word

♪ Sweet the rain's new fall

♪ Sunlit from heaven... ♪

Thank you, Mrs Parfitt.
Thank you.

- How many more?
- Just the half dozen.

Lady Felicia,
you do look a picture.

Father Brown. Mrs McCarthy.

- I'm not interrupting anything, am I?
- Not at all.

Only I wondered if you'd care
to accompany me to a poetry recital.

I know it's short notice, but the host
specifically requested your presence.

He was quite insistent.

Father Brown is in the middle
of auditions.

Which I'm sure can wait.

Who, might I ask, is the host?

One of her highfalutin cronies,
I shouldn't wonder.

- Mr Quinton.
- Mmm.

- Not...Leonard Quinton?
- Uh-huh.

I've always enjoyed a nice sonnet.
Especially that Greek one.

- The one about the vase.
- Urn.

If you will.

Did Mr Quinton say
why he wanted me to attend?

I'm afraid he's a peculiar man
of very few words.

I don't like to gossip, but rumour
has it he's lost his marbles.

Have you met the wife?

Is it true she never leaves the house
and that he keeps an Indian hermit?

Like you, I don't like to gossip.

Hello!

- She's very young.
- Welcome.

It's such an honour to meet you.

I wanted to go to your finishing school,

but Papa told me you'd have nothing
to teach me.

On account of my own natural grace,
not your instruction.

Is that Christian Dior?

His designs are so flattering
for mature women, aren't they?

Lady Felicia.

Your husband is a very good client.

I try not to get involved
in my husband's business affairs.

Better to enjoy the spoils.
I'm sure you've earnt it.

What a delightful home.
Such curious artefacts.

Oh, yes! Lenny will be so pleased
you could make it.

We are very much looking forward to
meeting him, aren't we, Mrs McCarthy?

Yes. And I'm delighted to make
your acquaintance, Mrs Quinton.

No. Lenny and I aren't married.
Not yet, anyway.

Come, do follow me.

Oh, I'm afraid the train
from Paddington was cancelled,

so it's going to be
a rather intimate gathering.

I'm ashamed to say
that Violet is Leonard's mistress

and almost as insufferable as he is.

How very French.

(Coughing)

Mrs Quinton.

And the great man himself...

Namaste.
Thank you all so much for coming.

I realise our domestic arrangements
might seem a little odd,

but I assure you
they are mutually agreeable.

Do take a seat.

May I have a quick word first?

I must confess I'm intrigued
as to why you've invited me here today.

I'm not known for my literary prowess,

and you clearly look East
for spiritual guidance.

She had a smile
that used to light up the room.

Mr Quinton, is there something
you wish to share with me?

(Cat miaows)

(Cat hisses)

I would like you to look
after my wife, Father,

if anything should happen to me.

She's one of yours, but I'm afraid
she's lost her way a little.

You have my word. I will help her
to God's counsel in any way I can.

But what do you imagine
is going to happen to you?

Let's waste no more time, shall we?

Violet, my dear,
perhaps you would like to begin?

Aadhaaranilayah, adhaataa,
pushpahaasah, prajaagarah,

oordhvagah, satpathaachaarah

praanadah, pranavah, panabh.

(Violet) Entwine in the long grass

Sun-freckling buttocks

The last thing on our mind

Are priests in cassocks

My pulse races
as he traces his finger

‘Cross creamy white skin
with a lovely linger

"Twas as if we were otters

Frolicking as hot

As a great ball of fire

In the wet sand

Oh, yes! Yes!

Oh! I cry to the skies

With quivering thighs

It doesn't seem wise
to dwell on the lies

But my heart goes cold

And I can't help but fidget

As the band of gold I spy

Wrapped around his digit

Alas! Alack!

There's no going back

Till she loosen the noose

And cut him loose forever

Paapa-naashanah, samkha-bhrit,
nandakee,

Paapa-naashanah, samkha-bhrit,
nandakee,

chakree, shaarnga-dhanvaa,
gadaadharah,

rathaanga-paanih, akshobhyah,
sarva-praharanaayudhah.

It slithers out white

Sticky

Lump meets stump

Blood pumping, thumping

Bone against bone

Howls crunching

Retch

If I could

If I hadn't

If you were

Hands. No, feet

Clasping air

Gasp in pain

Unfurled

Horror swaddled
in twisted crimson ribbons

Vomiting love

Self-pity

Shame

Please excuse me.

- (Felicia) What was that about?
- Shh!

- And why were we invited to witness it?
- We weren't all invited.

You mustn't look.

Lenny hasn't let me see it yet,
and I sat for him for hours.

- In my birthday suit.
- Oh.

Your father must be very proud.

Forgive me,
is Mr Quinton in poor health?

Not physically.

These are academic medical text books.

He's a man.
Ergo a hypochondriac.

Lenny used to be a doctor.

He had a practice on Harley Street.
Please don't mention it to him.

- He gets very upset.
- (Harris) Can't imagine why.

It's his behaviour since that brings him
into disrepute. The man's a buffoon.

He's talking about converting
the stables into a levitation centre.

Meditation centre, based on
the teachings of Krishna Shankara

and the yoga sutras of Patanjali.

Is he a client of yours, too?

I don't have to like my clients
to do my job,

though I never would've
taken him on if it weren't for his wife.

Martha and I are old family friends.

(Door opens)

- Mrs Quinton...
- I'm all right, Father.

- You're shaking.
- I'm fine!

- It's Leonard that's feeling out of sorts.
- Poor Lenny.

Mr Harris, could you show our guests
the garden while he takes a nap?

I'll make sure that tea arrives
promptly on your return.

I'll wait here, in case Lenny wakes
and calls for me.

- Do what you like.
- Shouldn't we call a doctor?

No, he's just a little tired.

Perhaps I might speak
with Mr Quinton privately?

No. He explicitly asked
to be left alone.

(Felicia) A walk would be lovely.
Fresh air will do us all the world of good.

(Harris) Do follow me.

I gather they have an extremely rare
collection of tropical plants.

I wish my Parson's Pink
would repeat-flower like that.

The Quintons have an odd relationship,
don't you think?

- It's none of my business.
- Hmm.

- Who's the Indian gentleman?
- Martha calls him the gardener.

Leonard calls him his spiritual advisor.

I call him a fake and extortionist.

(Brown) Oh?

He brought him back
from his trip to the Raj.

Parades him round like an exotic pet.

No doubt he's brainwashed Leonard
out of thousands,

promising to ward off evil spirits
in return for a small fee.

Corruption's endemic in their culture,
I'm afraid.

Have you been to India?

I couldn't care less how Mr Quinton
fritters away his money.

I dare say his wife might have
something to say about that.

His wife is curiously silent, like a woman
who does her duty for 20 years

and then does something dreadful.

If she did, could you blame her?

Come, we need to stick together.

Now, what is this one called?

It looks like oleander, but I think
it's something far more unusual.

- I don't think this is a proper path.
- We must've taken a wrong turn.

And if I am not mistaken,
all the plants in this bed are poisonous.

(Felicia) How horrible.
Oh! Argh!

(Brown) Lady Felicia!

I tripped over that
and I've broken my heel!

Mangy beast. All ears and fleas.
Martha always hated that cat.

(Brown) Hmm. What's this?

Poor creature.

All creation, O Lord,
is in your care.

Give us eyes to see
that every living creature

speaks to us of your love.

- Amen.
- I think I may need some help.

It looks like a bad sprain.
I'll go back and fetch a first-aid kit.

And what are we supposed to do
in the meantime?

l...looked at your painting.

Well?

Say something.

I gave up everything for you.

You're never going to leave her,
are you?

I hope you rot to death in hell!

Oh, I thought we'd never find
our way back.

If you will wear those ridiculous shoes.

Was it a poem
or an instrument of torture?

- (Mrs McCarthy) And about time too!
- Sorry I took so long.

(Screams)

(Harris) Stand back.

(Violet) Is everything OK?
I thought I heard...

(Brown) Mrs McCarthy.

(Violet screaming)

Lenny!

It seems that he left a note.

Umesh,
will you call the police, please?

"Wheresoever the body shall be,
there shall eagles also be gathered.”

Gospel of Matthew,
if I'm not mistaken.

And you're always complaining
that I'm after your job.

- (Mrs McCarthy) Milk, one sugar.
- That's how Lenny liked it.

Thank you.

We found this on the conservatory
bench, Inspector.

Not the most illuminating
final missive.

Mrs Quinton, can you confirm
this is your husband's handwriting?

Please accept my condolences.

- If there's anything...
- Nothing.

Death has been certified.
You can show the doctor out.

Shall we join the countess
in the study?

I'm sure Inspector Valentine
has everything in hand.

What a perfectly awful day.

(Violet sobbing)

You'd think he might've waited
till after we'd gone.

He was worried about how his wife
would cope by herself.

(Felicia)
She seems to have barely noticed.

I imagine that was Father Brown's point.

This is a very fine Oolong.

Such a shame the pot wasn't
warmed before pouring in water.

Next time you can make it yourself.

Though of course that would involve
setting foot in a kitchen.

(Felicia) I wonder what made
a distinguished man of science

throw off medicine.

(Mrs McCarthy) Maybe something
happened on his trip to India.

How long did you say you'd known him?

(Felicia) I didn't. Truth be told,
I only met him a fortnight ago.

We were introduced
at a charity gala in London.

He was with that Hindu fellow, I think.

I'm afraid I don't remember
our conversation quite so well

as the headache I had
the following morning.

You'd think I'd be used
to champagne by now.

I need to find Inspector Valentine.

No, perhaps I should talk to the Hindu
gentleman in private first.

Yes. Best to have all the facts.

Mrs McCarthy, would you bring
everybody to the drawing room?

I have something very important
to tell you all.

I'll explain shortly.

But no one must leave.
And no one must be left on their own.

♪ Dehino 'smin yatha dehe

J§ Kaumaram yauvanam jara

♪ Tatha dehantara-praptir

♪ Dhiras tatra na muhyati ♪

I don't believe we've been introduced.

My name is Father Brown.

Umesh Varma.

I used to be a tour guide
at the Botanical Gardens in Cochin.

That's where I first met Leonard.

I understand you and Leonard
were good friends.

He was a good man.
A kind man.

But I'm afraid
his soul was in torment.

Did you discover the cause
of his sorrow?

Mr Leonard was a very private man.
I would never betray a confidence.

Did Martha and Leonard lose a child?

May I ask what business it is of yours?

Leonard asked me
to look after his wife.

By poking round his house
and digging up the past?

I only want to uncover the truth.

The truth is not always
black and white.

It's over.
Why can't you just leave it at that?

I'm told you have some
important information to share.

I think we'd all agree that Mr Quinton
was a deeply troubled man.

(Violet sobs)

Married to her,
who can blame him?

The woman's not human.

You could cut off her head
and she wouldn't bat an eyelid!

Some people are simply able
to keep their emotions in check.

Please understand the last thing I want
to do in these awful circumstances

is to cause you further distress.

Get to the point, please, Father.

I'm afraid Mr Quinton
could not have hanged himself.

But we saw it.
He even left a note.

Go on.

Leonard was left-handed, as evidenced
by the slope of his handwriting

and the arrangement of his desk.

Yes. And?

The knot of rope around Mr Quinton's
neck was tied right over left.

I don't understand.
What are you saying?

He's saying Leonard was murdered.

We need a pathologist.

I want the conservatory locked
and an officer outside both doors.

Search the grounds
for anything suspicious.

- No doubt you have theories.
- A number...

And I'm grateful for your insight so far.

But from now on,
this is a murder investigation,

so perhaps you could leave
the questions to me.

Mrs Quinton, did you and
your husband have any children?

No.

So you're the main beneficiary
in your husband's will?

Murderer!

It's obvious it was her.
She hated him.

- She's not the only one.
- I'll interview everyone in due course.

You'll have ample opportunity
to express your opinions.

Mrs Quinton, could you answer
the question, please?

I believe he planned
to leave me the house.

And the rest of his fortune?

I'm afraid Mr Quinton
recently altered his will

and bequeathed the rest
of his fortune to Mr Varma.

Our gardener.

(Chanting)

Mr Varma,
if you'll permit the observation,

you didn't seem surprised to come
upon Leonard's body this morning.

That's because I knew
Leonard was going to die.

And how could you
possibly know that?

- I had a vision.
- A vision?

Well, not a vision exactly,
it came to me more as a colour

when I was pruning the hedges
this morning

and I saw the Othalanga in bloom.

Oh, that's the name of it.

Also known as the Suicide Tree,
because its kernels are poisonous.

As soon as I saw it in flower,

I knew he was going to die today.

Just as I know this priest
will uncover how and why,

and that the truth will be sadder still.
You don't believe me?

I believe there is normally a rational
explanation for the phenomenal.

So how do you explain your bible?
Didn't Jesus walk on water?

Feed thousands
with a single loaf of bread?

I also believe the world
becomes a very dangerous place

when we interpret holy scripture
too literally.

But there are so many things
that happen which we cannot explain.

If you'll excuse me, please.

- So you have the gift of second sight?
- I wouldn't call it a gift, no.

I'm a spiritual man.

Did you know Mr Quinton was planning
to bequeath you his fortune?

Yes.

What did you plan
to do with the money?

- Give it to charity.
- A likely story.

I found this washed up
by the lake, sir.

What is it? Some kind of effigy?

I was saying
"Vishnu Sahasranama" for Leonard.

Er...in English?

It's a prayer to invoke
the thousand names of Vishnu.

Leonard was teaching me.

I believe we all have a thousand names.
A thousand guises.

Where were you between
eleven and twelve this morning?

I was in the kitchen making pinda.
Rice ball offerings.

To nourish Leonard's soul
on its onward journey.

- Before he was actually dead?
- Yes.

While someone next door
murdered him?

- So it would seem.
- (Inspector) I've heard it all now.

(Brown) I saw the headstone
this morning.

Please accept
my sincerest condolences.

Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.

It has been 16 months
since my last confession.

(Inspector) Mr Varma, I'm arresting you
on suspicion of murder.

You are not obliged to say anything,

but whatever you say will be taken down
and may be given in evidence.

Wait!

She died a year ago today.

Her name...was Olivia.

You have her photograph
in your locket?

A lock of her hair.

We didn't take any photographs.

She was handed to me in a blanket,
so all I could see was her face.

Her beautiful face.

But when the midwife brought me
a cup of tea a few minutes later,

I remember her hands shaking.

And then I looked at Leonard...

...and realised something
was terribly, terribly wrong.

She was born grotesquely deformed.

Some limbs missing,
others the wrong shape.

Leonard never said a word.

Couldn't even look at me.

He ran off to India
before I was discharged from hospital.

I couldn't bear for her
to be gossiped about,

paraded through medical circles
like some monstrous curiosity.

So I decided to...

...keep her secret.

I gave up the London flat
and I moved here permanently.

Leonard came back
three months afterwards,

and she...

...died a few hours later.

It was as if she had been
waiting for him.

We buried her in the garden,
and then we went our separate ways,

albeit under the same roof
for appearance's sake.

We never talked about her again.

I didn't even know that he still
thought about her until this morning.

The poem.

I thought he was deliberately
trying to hurt me.

I realise now that...

...that was the only way
he could express himself.

Hmm...

I thought he was under arrest?

Lady Felicia has belatedly recalled
hearing Mr Varma speak publicly

about his plans to set up a leprosy
charity whilst at a gala in London.

So?

Whilst it doesn't explain
how he predicted Mr Quinton's death

hours before it occurred,
it does cast doubt on his motives.

Unless he murdered Lenny
to save the lepers.

- Does this mean we can't go home?
- I'm afraid so.

I understand Mr Harris, Father Brown,
Mrs McCarthy and Lady Felicia

were on a tour of the gardens between
eleven and twelve this morning.

Miss Parnassus, where were you?

- I was in here.
- All the time?

- Yes!
- She's lying.

I heard her in the study.
She and Leonard were arguing.

Very heatedly, in fact.

She was furious with him
for not leaving his wife.

If I remember correctly,
she wanted him to rot to death in hell.

Oh, dear.

Miss Parnassus?

We... We had an argument,

and I said some very silly things.

- I'm a passionate woman!
- Hmm...

How did you overhear all of this
if you were in the garden?

I came back to fetch the first-aid kit
when Lady Felicia twisted her ankle.

In any case, how could I have
possibly strung him up like that?

Mr Quinton wasn't a large man.

I imagine whoever killed him used
the trolley we found at the scene

to move his body,
climbed the conservatory benches

and attached one end of the curtain
cord to the plant hook in the ceiling,

tied the other round his neck,

and pushed the trolley over
to make it look like suicide.

- It could've been any one of you.
- Even you, Mr Harris.

- Don't be ridiculous.
- You hated him as much as she did.

It's no secret I never liked the man,

but what could I possibly
stand to gain from his death?

When I confronted Leonard
after the recital,

he told me that Olivia's condition
was his fault.

It took us a long time to conceive.

And I suffered very badly
with morning sickness.

I was terrified
that I was going to miscarry,

so he prescribed me a new drug
he'd heard about on a trip to Germany.

He wasn't able to prove anything,
but he was convinced

that that's what caused
her birth defects.

Which is why he gave up medicine.
Must have made you very angry.

Worse than that.

I felt relieved.

Because if it was his fault...

Then perhaps it wasn't mine.

- Beginner's luck.
- Oh, is that what you call it?

One doesn't need extrasensory
perception to predict your moves.

You're always on the defence and
have too many men round the edges.

We need to take formal statements
while we wait for the pathologist's report.

Perhaps we might use the study?

How is she?

Mrs McCarthy, what's the botanical
name of the Suicide Tree?

Cerbera Odollam.

Inspector, would it be possible
to have another look at the body?

Yes...very likely.

Thank you, Sergeant.

The pathologist will need
to confirm, of course,

but I've spotted traces of toxic
white sap on Mr Quinton's clothes,

which, I am almost certain
we'll discover,

is from the Othalanga tree.

Didn't the dead cat have something
white and sticky on its paws?

Didn't you say
Mrs Quinton hated that cat?

- That's hearsay.
- Nevertheless...

I knew it was her! I knew it!

(Inspector) She has no alibi
and an established motive.

- I'd like to examine her clothes.
- She'll hang for this!

It had nothing to do with her!

Or with toxic sap.

How can you be so certain?

Because it was me.

- I murdered Leonard Quinton.
- Are you sure?

After I left you in the garden,
I went back to the house

and waited till Violet left the study
and Leonard fell asleep.

Then I came up behind him

and strangled him with a curtain cord.

The rest happened
exactly as you surmised.

You forged the suicide note?

The study was littered
with his scrawlings.

He'd fallen asleep near a notebook.

I simply tore out a sheet of paper
and copied his hand.

Inspector, as far as I'm aware,

it is impossible to arrest a man
for killing a corpse.

I beg your pardon?

Mr Harris, I'm afraid
when you returned to the house,

you were in such a hurry
to kill Mr Quinton,

you failed to notice
that he was already dead.

- What?
- The notebook you mentioned.

You took it with you, I presume?

If you hadn't been in such a hurry
to forge a suicide note,

you might've found the one
he'd already written.

It is my belief that Mr Leonard Quinton
poisoned himself

by ingesting kernels
from the Suicide Tree.

Possibly after experimenting
with the correct dosage on his pet cat.

"I deeply regret the pain and suffering
I have caused my wife,

"and no longer wish to punish her
with my presence.

"Please forgive my cowardice
and help her to a better life."

I thought he loved me!

Darling, men are duplicitous and fickle.
Better learn that while there's still time.

Until the post mortem,
we can't be certain

that Mr Quinton was already dead
when he strangled him.

Therefore, Mr Harris, I am arresting you
on suspicion of murder.

You're not obliged to say anything
unless you wish to do so,

but whatever you do say
will be taken down in writing

and may be given in evidence.

If you hated him this much,

why were you always making excuses
to come round?

Am I the only one who spotted
how often he looked at Martha?

How quick he was to defend her?

I thought if I didn't kill him,
she would.

At least I'd have the sense
to cover it up. Or try.

Then after a decent interval
I could tell her how I felt and...

What made you think
she was capable of murder?

She pathologically hated
her husband.

Shuddered when he so much
as looked at her.

Then there was the dead cat.

When I thought about how fiercely
she insisted Leonard needed a nap

and the medication
she'd been hoarding...

- What medication?
- I discovered this morning.

She'd been stockpiling
her sleeping pills.

May we have a moment alone,
please, Inspector?

Every time I looked at him,
I saw her face.

I can't tell you how often I wished

I'd never have to set eyes
upon him again.

And yet now he's gone...

...it's like losing her all over again.

Because, despite everything,
you still loved him.

If you've got the answers,
give me one good reason

why I shouldn't swallow these pills.

The fact you asked the question
must stand for something.

So you're not going to tell me
everything happens for a reason?

That this is God's will?

I don't know why your daughter died.

And I don't know
why God let it happen.

Then what do you know?

I know that God knows what it is
to lose a child.

And that he is standing next to you.

And that he can't stop you suffering,
but that he loves you

and he loves your daughter.

And if you let him into your heart,
you will see Olivia again.

I've never heard anyone

say her name out loud before.

Olivia.

Again.

- Olivia.
- Again.

Olivia.

Mr Varma.
I'm sorry I misjudged you.

Leonard told you about
his daughter's condition, didn't he?

You can stay with me until you've
had a chance to talk to your parents.

Oh! Natural grace indeed.

Oh, you fixed it!

You obviously were never
in the Girl Guides.

Always fancied the Boy Scouts myself.
Hop in. We'll give you a lift home.

Thank you, that's kind,
but Father Brown...

The inspector has already offered
to give him a lift home in his.

- Erm...I'm not sure.
- You'd rather walk?

(Thunderclap)

I suppose it wouldn't hurt
to take the weight off my bunions.

And your chauffeur must be crying out
for some intelligent conversation.

(Inspector) How is she?
(Brown) Upstairs, sleeping.

Umesh will take good care of her.

If the post mortem confirms
Mr Quinton was poisoned,

we'll have to let him go.

Mr Harris will always be
a prisoner of his conscience.

For a few weeks, maybe. Then
he'll have forgotten the whole thing.

Or edited what happened
till his conduct's no longer in question.

God created man in his own image.
It's my vocation to remind people of that.

- Even the atheists?
- Especially the atheists.

"Play, smile.

"Think of me, pray for me.

"Let my name be spoken without effort,

"without the ghost of a shadow upon it.

"Life means all that it ever meant.

"It is the same as it ever was.
There is unbroken continuity.

"Why should I be out of mind
because I am out of sight?

"I am but waiting for you.

"For an interval,
somewhere very near,

"just around the corner.

"All is well."

De profundis clamavi ad te,
Domine.

Domine, exaudi vocem meam.

Fiant aures tuae infendentes,
in vocem deprecationis meae.

Goodbye, Olivia.

Si infquitates observaveris, Domine,
Domine, quis sustinebit?

Quia apud te propitiatio est

et propter legem tuam sustinui te,
Domine.