All language subtitles for Campion (1989-1990) 2 Police at the Funeral 2

THEME SONG PLAYING...

Lugg?

I'm here. What time is it?

Its half past eight on a Friday
morning and the...

What does it matter
what time it is?

All right, all right,
where are you?

I'm in Cambridge,
investigating a murder.

Yes, I know.

Uncle Andrew
got himself shot in the nut.

Two murders, Uncle
Andrew shot through the head

and dumped in the river.
And now, Aunt Julia.

She didn't wake up this morning
in the house where I'm staying,

where I'm being employed
to prevent such things.

Very awkward for you.
Who done it? Uncle William?

What do you know
about Uncle William?

I've been following
it in the paper.

Makes an entertaining read
with my evening cup of cocoa.

They can't find a gun
or Uncle Andrew's head.

And Uncle William can't
account for his movements.

Look, I can't discuss it
with you now, Lugg.

What I want you to do is
pack me a suitcase of clothes,

enough for a week
at the very least.

Then contact Inspector Oates
at the Yard,

and advise him to get up
here with all speed.

Me advise the law?
What're you on about?

Preferably on the 10-0-5
out of Liverpool Street,

from which I shall meet you both
at 11:37, at Cambridge Station.

Two things knock out
suicide on the face of it.

Aunt Julia left no note
and her door wasn't locked,

which is customary with suicide.

And the bread sauce.

She had an argument with
the cook about the bread sauce.

She demanded it to be
less lumpy, tonight.

Three things knock out suicide
on the face of it.

Mrs Faraday ain't done
yet, miss.

She's still talking
to the doctor.

She said the gentlemen wait
for her in the morning room.

Thank you, Alice.

Poor Julia...

Last night so full of vigour,
so dominant,

such a tower of strength
to us all.

Oh, come, come, Kitty. We all
know it's been a terrible shock,

but let's face facts.

She was a damn bad-tempered
old harpy, and so was Andrew

and this place will be a damn
sight quieter without the pair of them.

- Willy, how...
- Don't call me Willy!

Julia was a good woman!

- Better than you'll ever be.
- I won't have this hypocrisy!

You know very well what
an awful life she gave you.

Well, at least she never got

secretly inebriated.

That's a damned,
ill-natured lie.

You've got a poisoned
mind, my girl. Oh, shut up...

William, must I remind you,
there is death in the house?

Dr Lavrock has diagnosed
acute Conium poisoning. Hemlock.

And the remains of the dose
are probably in this cup.

I did it.

I made the tea.

She liked a cup of tea,
every morning, and so do I.

It didn't do any harm.
Alice knew about it.

I bought a little kettle
and a spirit stove and I

made tea for us, every
morning, for the past two years.

Oh, if she put anything in it and
drank it up, I'll never forgive myself.

My dear, take your aunt
up to her room.

And if Dr Lavrock is still in the
house, ask him to give her a sedative.

- Come along with me, Aunt Kitty.
- Marcus.

I think that, perhaps, you
should fetch the police now.

William, leave us.

I wish for a private word
with Mr Campion.

Tea
drinking in the early morning

has always appeared to me
to be a spineless indulgence.

I've never had it served in
my house, and I never shall.

I'm very pleased that
you're here, Mr Campion.

Very soon, this house
will be overrun with police,

to say nothing
of the newspapers.

The servants, of course, are
under instructions to say nothing.

And, William and Kitty, too,
must be kept well away from them.

I hope you can arrange
all that for me.

I shall do my utmost,
Mrs Faraday.

And I also have a friend from
Scotland Yard, on his way here, I hope.

Inspector Stanislaus Oates,
the very best.

Dr Lavrock has a theory

that poor Julia was
responsible for Andrew's death.

Was overtaken by remorse
and committed suicide.

No one,
but an unimaginative fool

could credit such an idea
for a moment.

She had not the physique, nor
the opportunity, to tie Andrew up,

and then shoot him
and push him in the river.

She was a heavy,
cumbersome creature.

Was terrified, if she so
much as got her feet wet.

You're thinking, my attitude to
her death is stoical, if not heartless.

I'm past the age for
deceiving myself, Mr Campion.

I am, of course, shocked.

And surprised.

But, I'm not deeply grieved.

Ah, most instructive
journey, Albert.

The policeman and the ex-burglar,
very diverting conversation.

I wish I could've shared
the entertainment.

Trouble with your
inspector friend,

ain't got the criminal's
mentality.

That safe wrecking
job at Walthamstow

would've saved him
hours of leg work.

Never too proud to take a tip,
Mr Lugg.

Goodness no, me.

Sooner be the emperor of China.

Aunt Kitty is resting.

They'll want to talk to her,
won't they?

- And Alice, it was Alice who found her.
- Yes, of course.

Ah, Miss Blount.

We met in London.

Of course, we did.
Hello, Inspector.

Have you spoken to my aunt, yet?

- No, I'd like to.
- Well, I'll find her for you.

She's in the library.

Campion?

They can't pin this one on me.

What's Alice frightened of?

Alice?

Well, you must be Mr Campion,
Mrs Faraday's watchdog.

Inspector Bowditch,
the country copper.

Of course, now we got
Scotland Yard here,

we'll have this thing
wrapped up in no time.

Is this place recommended?

I can speak
12 different kinds of Yiddish.

Carry on a conversation
with a tight Swedish sailor.

I can handle
an East End harridan

with Chinese and Czech blood
in her veins.

But that Mrs Faraday and her
family are beyond me.

Did you, by any chance,
sit in the rose damask chair?

- Yes.
- Ah.

Thank you, Inspector.
You're room number five.

That's up the stairs, along
the passage and on the left.

You'll find a towel and soap.

And breakfast is
any time after 7:00.

Would you be
wanting supper, too?

This sandwich is recommended.

Very nice bit of home cured,
Mrs Finch.

I'm next door to you.
And before.

The bridal suite.

Er, that is, if my expertise
is required in this adventure.

Your presence will, as ever,
be invaluable, Lugg.

But, I think you should
stay away from the house.

Whisky and soda, please,
Mrs Finch.

Leaving the back door,
getting friendly with the kitchen?

This is not one of your
London kitchens,

where you're likely to find
some old pal of yours.

The staffroom is built
into the stands.

What's under the stands
is my speciality.

Bear with me.
Remember where you are.

Partake of a few lectures,
improve yourself.

B.A. Honours. Borstal taught
me all I need to know in life.

- Oh!
- Mrs Finch.

- Oh, it's you!
- Shh.

I saw the door closing.

It was very brave of you
to venture in.

I'm coming to believe
this house is haunted.

Are you serious?

I'm seldom serious.

What are you looking for? Surely,
the police have combed the room.

They may have combed it,
they've untangled nothing.

Consider,

Aunt Julia was poisoned by
Conium, otherwise known as Hemlock,

practically tasteless in tea.

Aunt Kitty had noticed
a sediment

in the bottom of her cup,
for the past six months.

So, Aunt Julia puts the poison
into her tea this morning,

under the impression
it is her usual dose...

...of something else.

A mistake?

Neither you nor Kitty were aware
of her taking any patent medicines,

health sort, something that...

- Alice might have administered?
- No!

Alice is a dear soul. She's
the last person in the world...

Suppose, I'm a heavy,
lazy woman, lying in bed.

A cup of hot tea
is brought to me.

I wish to take something from
its hiding place, put it into my tea,

with the maximum of comfort.

Pillows.

Mattress.

These are moved, every day.

Of course! The hiding
place of childhood.

The squirrel's hole, this is the
most likely one, a bed table side.

Fyro Tissue Reducer. "A pillet
a day, keeps the scales at bay.

"Taken every morning in tea,
effectively reduces superfluous flesh.

"Guaranteed convenient
and harmless."

I have to go to an analyst.

Who'll no doubt find them
convenient and harmless.

But this morning's dose...

Impregnated with Conium.

By someone who knew Aunt Julia was
secretly trying to get her weight down.

Women.

- What about women?
- Funny lot.

Take Aunt Julia...

- According to me...
- Betty?

Her house, this.

She's got her finger on the
nob of this parish if anybody has.

Aunt Julia knew too much.

Gossip.

- Where's the evidence?
- Under your nose, or by the river.

Or, in the sacred belly
of that house,

where commoners like me
may not trespass.

Everything all right, Mr Lugg?

Fine and dandy, Mrs Finch.
Fine and dandy.

Uncle William?

Ah, you can strike him off.

Well, would you ever go to
church with 15 feet of clothesline,

and a revolver concealed
about your person?

Then he took off after him,

does the necessary, shoves him in
the river, back home for Sunday dinner?

Not a spot of blood on him.

I'll give you the credit
for checking his clothes.

In that case
we have no suspects, eh?

Well, and for the first time,

someone has performed
a conjuring trick.

Ow! Blast!

Oh, damn you, Kitty!

- What on Earth would you do that for?
- Ah!

His hand, his hand!
Look at his hand!

Someone else has
been murdered! Ah!

What is all this disturbance?

William, what are you doing?

Answer me, sir!

I'm all right.

I'm going to my room...

...bed, to sleep.

I don't need any assistance.

You can all leave me.

This I won't have!

Madam, you'll catch
your death of cold!

Your killer, dragging her out of
bed with your screams and noise!

- Don't you have enough to worry about?
- Alice.

You... You get back
into your bed, ma'am!

You get Kitty back to bed,
I'll see to Uncle William.

How did you do this?

Mind your own damn business.

Oh, don't go,
for heaven's sake, old man.

Made a bit of a fool of myself.

Always was a great believer in
iodine. Army training, I suppose.

I must've dropped
all the bottles.

You ought to have
a bandage on this.

There's a handkerchief,
top drawer, that should do it.

Unlucky beggar that I am.

What happened, William?
Who did this to you?

A cat.

Damn great black beast,
got in through the window.

I was trying to put it out
when it scratched me.

I need a drink.

Ah, Campion.

After Andrew's inquest,
a gentle Tuesday.

What else could they do?

Uncle William gave it evidence
with his arm in a sling.

An argument with a cat, according
to your young lawyer friend Marcus.

Nasty.

What are you holding back?

Hmm.

In her room, I suppose,
under my nose?

You mustn't take it badly.

I had brass knobs on my crib. I
remember the taste of them, still.

You had all the advantages.

Well, now we're
getting somewhere!

This is one for those
home-office chemists.

Very hot fellows, these days.

Anything else?

A fair swap. What bullet
killed Uncle Andrew?

.45. And much good
may that do you.

The number of unregistered army
weapons in the country must be colossal.

It's undoubtedly William's,
when your boys find it.

Explain Mr William Faraday's
injury to me.

I know you and Lugg don't have
him in the frame, but he's all I've got.

It's odd.

When I went to his room, last night,
after the incident, he seemed groggy.

Not drink.

It's pure conjecture, of course,

but, I think he might have
been very slightly poisoned.

Hmm.

He still has 25 minutes at the
time of the murder to account for.

That's easily settled.
He was here.

Amnesia and all.
Wasn't he, Mrs Finch?

Oh, he was, on that Sunday, yes!

From about ten to one,
till at least a quarter past,

I mean, there's customers
who'll vouch for it.

Poor Mr Faraday.

A bit fuzzy he is,
sometimes, you know.

If there was ever a case that
gave a copper a magnificent chance

to make a fool of himself,
this is it.

Put your weight
right down the centre.

Look at them.

Their lot couldn't find
a poppy in a poppy field.

That's rather patronising.
They're highly trained officers.

What would you have done
with the gun?

I would have dropped it
in the river.

Get stuck in the mud.

I suppose if I was in a hurry,

could've buried it somewhere.

Now if I'd have done it,
I'd have pitched him off here,

hoping to hit the deep part
of the stream. Send him off.

But he fetched up over there.

What's in that hut?

Nothing, just small sacks,
storage place for tools,

shelter for workmen, clearing
the woods sometime or other.

Want to take a look?

Oi!

- Oi?
- It was here, under these logs.

It's not the hat the deceased wore
to church on the Sunday in question.

Apart from the fact that the deceased
wore a bowler, on that occasion,

the condition of this here hat
precludes any such eventuality.

It's the property of a vagrant, if
you'll pardon my contradiction.

Tramp fancying his bowler,
swapped it, buried his own.

- Faultless logic, Lugg.
- And irrelevant.

There's no evidence your tramp, even
if he exists, was witness to the crime.

Enough conjecture.

It's plodding routine
from now on.

That's where our solution
lies, somewhere under that roof.

They all know
more than they've said.

Especially Uncle William.

Oh, no!

I am glad you're here
Inspector, you too, Campion.

Kitty's had a scare.
Come with me into the library.

Mmm, when did this appear?

I don't know.

Nobody's been in here
since last night,

when the blinds
would have been drawn.

Kitty came in here
to do some dusting.

Aunt Caroline never allows
servants in this room.

We were playing the fool.

Oh, look at that.

It's enormous.

One of your boys, Stanislaus.

Lugg's tramp, do you suppose?
The owner of the green hat.

They usually leave a sign to warn
each other about the neighbourhood,

sort of freemasonry.

Looks like 18 to me.

Or possibly the letter "B".

I saw a child draw it
once like that.

A child with a size 13 foot?

I came to
see Mr William Faraday.

- Is he about?
- I am afraid he is not really well enough...

He is quite entitled to have
his lawyer with him. After you.

My dear Stanislaus...

This old boy has been through two
campaigns, including the Great War,

without so much as killing a
rabbit. He is no more guilty than I am.

And he has got an alibi, I know.

But there's something
nagging at me.

William and Alice, the maid,
were the only two out of the house

at the time of
Uncle Andrew's murder.

Alice?

Visiting her sister,
she told me yesterday.

Just routine.

Oh, what's the trouble now?

Look, I'm a sick man.

I don't know if you
can find yourself chairs.

That hand of yours, sir.

I have already explained
about all that.

I should like to see the wound.

It's rather irregular, officer.

Perhaps I can help
with the bandage.

All right, Dr Lavrock
isn't going to like it.

The cat entered
through here, did it?

Eh?

Describe it to me.

Was it large? Black?

Darkish.

Look, it was my idea to get it out
of the window, not make a pet of it.

How do you know it was a cat?

Because it mewed at me, it said,
"Meow, meow". What a damn fool question!

Featherstone, you are a rotten lawyer if you
can't protect me from this sort of thing.

It was dark, could have been
a young tiger, for all I know.

I just put it out the window.

Do you believe in
the supernatural, Mr Campion?

Do you believe in
the power of evil?

Yes.

Then you ought to be
afraid to stay here.

I'm not afraid, because I have
the arm our of religion to protect me.

There's no escape
for the wicked.

They shall perish, even as Andrew
perished. But evil doesn't perish.

The active spirit of evil
is in this house.

Did you see the mark
on the library window?

I recognised it.
Andrew told me once,

that if he died first,
he'd come back and haunt us.

Well, he's doing it.

William says a cat attacked him.

That was no cat, Mr Campion,

that was the hand of Lucifer
stretching out in the darkness.

It isn't the police we need,
it's the clergy.

This sinful building needs
to be exorcised.

I am a silly old woman.

But I am warning you, young
man, you keep away from here.

Andrew brought evil
into this house.

And its black wing
is over it still.

- And your sister?
- Oh...

Poor, misguided Julia.

She was only selfish.

God is a jealous God.

You want me to leave my house?
Certainly not.

My dear young man, at my age,

physical danger, that is, the danger
of death, is present wherever I am.

In fact, I see myself as someone

waiting on a platform for
a train already long overdue.

If I were only sure it would
be different, I should insist.

But I am not sure.

There's an explanation of
this affair which frightens me.

If it is the truth, no one
in this house is safe.

No one in this house is safe.

Almost exactly my words
to you, if you remember.

But I shall remain where I am.

If nemesis is to overtake us,
it will.

If you wanted the old woman
out of the house,

why not the girl as well?
Miss Blount.

And the aunt, what's her name?

I think Aunt Kitty may be safe.

She has God on her side.

Miss Blount, well...

Her fiance's been invited to
dinner, he can take care of her.

It's not a thing
I advise as a rule.

But I hope you've got
your revolver.

Thank you. I have.

- I will.
- Madam!

Ah!

Hello
Kitty, it's the devil again.

Now, sit down all of you.

Bring on the fatted calf,
the prodigal returns.

George, you will go to the library
and speak to me there, if you please.

Sorry, aunts. So sorry, but this
is where we change the rules.

No more fobbing me off
with a few pounds.

George is gonna be made
a great fuss of.

George is going to stay.

You infernal blaggard! We have heard
enough of you. Get out of this house.

And to save the police trouble,

call at the station on your way, they're
looking for you, I don't mind telling you.

All right, chuck me out.
But you'll regret it.

I've got you all
just where I want you.

You're all gonna sit up and
dance when I call the tune.

And, you, you pompous
old humbug,

you're going to run round me
like a Spaniel if I want you to.

Alice, get me a whisky and soda.

Jump to it, woman!

Mr Faraday, I am Marcus
Featherstone, lawyer for this family.

And I think I should warn you...

No, no, no, you don't warn me,
anything, Mr Featherstone. You just listen.

Unless you want a murder
trial in this family.

And who are you? I have
seen you before somewhere.

In London, Mr Faraday, you had
some information for a friend of mine.

- Inspector Oates.
- Oh, of course, well.

I don't care who hears what I
gotta say now, I know what I know,

and I've got a witness
to prove it.

I should have been here
before, but...

I got a bit drunk and had an
argument with a policeman.

I was detained at His Majesty's
pleasure for a few days.

Blot of a family is... So sorry!

Well, I got out yesterday,
read about Andrew and Julia.

She's gone, too. Well, that's
a stroke of luck I didn't expect.

Make your point, man,
or get out!

My point, old man,

is as I happened to follow Andrew from
the church on Sunday, the 18th of June.

It isn't circumstantial
evidence.

It's an eyewitness account.

You will explain, George.

Oh, no, you don't
catch me like that.

As long as I am comfortable...
Thank you, Alice,

I shall say nothing,
I know what suits me.

It's one of you.

You all know that.

And I know which one it is.

Yes.

Murder trials...

They arouse public interest,
don't they?

I think I could place
a short intimate biography

of myself with several
great newspapers,

should I be compelled to tell
all I know about old Andrew.

It's the spirit of evil.

Spirit of evil.

It's another fiend sent
to torment us.

Alice.

Mr Faraday will be
staying here tonight.

Yes, I shall have
old Andrew's room.

I'll bet he knew how
to make himself comfortable.

And I shall want a bottle of
whisky on the mantelpiece.

In the meantime,

I shall be in the library, aunt,
when you're ready for a chat,

in old Uncle John's shrine.

And I am master of
this house now.

When you get there,
pull the blinds up.

You'll see there's a message for
you in one of the windowpanes.

Marcus, I'd consider it a great favour
if you'd consent to stay here tonight.

Why certainly, Mrs Faraday.
If you wish it.

Joyce, my dear, I want
you to sleep in my room.

Alice will make up the day
bed in my dressing room.

Marcus, you will
have Joyce's room.

No doubt, William can lend you
anything you may require.

Yes, of course,
anything you want.

I shall go upstairs for a while.

There are, I'm sure, many other people in
this world, quite as wicked as George is.

But a modicum of manners prevents
him from making such a deplorable display.

I can't understand Mother.

The fellow comes here with a cock
and bull story, and she takes it seriously.

Somehow the bounder
made it sound convincing.

You don't mean to say that...

You believe that someone
in this house... one of us...

...did away
with old Andrew and Julia.

I think it's a great pity Mrs
Faraday doesn't send for the police.

A great pity.
And rather extraordinary.

Well, if it hadn't been for Mother, I would
have taken a horse whip to the fellow.

That ain't right.

You've got to stop it.
She's in there.

- Who's in where, Alice?
- The mistress.

She's gone in and shut the door.

They're talking.

I can't hear.

What should we do?

Wait. If Mrs Faraday can't
handle cousin George, no one can.

You're sure right there.
Leave him to Mother.

You mark my words, he will
come skulking out of that room,

with his tail between his legs.

I've got you!

You can't ship me
whichever way you try.

I am afraid it is quite
evident he knows a great deal.

And seeks to make
capital from it.

If you wouldn't mind
getting him upstairs

by whatever method
you may find fit,

I'll talk to him again in
the morning when he's sober.

Alice.

How dare he treat you like that.

Hello, my little tasty bun,
come here and sit on my lap.

You know, Joyce, you are the only
thing worth looking at in this household.

- Let me give you a kiss.
- No!

Ah!

Enough!

No, don't make any more trouble!

That is enough!

Come along, my dear. No,
don't cry. Oh, poor little thing.

Aunt Caroline's tame
puppies, are you?

You can't frighten me.

There you stay, you animal!

- There is nothing else but to wait for morning.
- Nothing.

Good night, Marcus.

Good night.

♪ Wherever you go

♪ Whatever you do

♪ I want you to know

♪ I'm following you

♪ Whatever you climb

♪ Or stumble into

♪ Why all of the...

♪ I'm following you ♪

It's me!

Old B!

George, it's me, Old B!

- Had enough?
- Ah!

Torch! Over there
somewhere in the path.

I wasn't doing nothing.

I can have the police
on you for this.

I am the police, ever heard
of a plain-clothes man?

I am Chief Detective Inspector
Campion of Scotland Yard.

And this is
Detective Sergeant Lugg.

And you are under arrest.

I'm down here to investigate
the murder of Andrew Seeley,

on a footbridge, over the Grant
a on Sunday, the 18th of June.

I have reason to believe
you're the man I want.

- You haven't cautioned me yet.
- Cautioned you?

We Scotland Yard men aren't
knock-up sergeants, you know.

- You ever heard of the third degree?
- Steady on, Sergeant.

I've got a friend.
He's a proper gentleman.

- He knows a man's rights.
- Your friend, George Faraday, is under lock and key.

Carry on, Sergeant.

- Name?
- I want my lawyer.

- Alias, Old B.
- Address...

It's not an alias.

It's a nickname among friends.

I'm Thomas Beverbridge, I'm
registered at Wordly Workhouse in Kent.

There's nothing known
against me.

- Charge him, Sergeant.
- You, Thomas Beverbridge, are charged with George...

- Make peace Faraday...
- Whose statement we already have.

- With the wilful murder of Andrew...
- Seeley.

- By shooting him...
- That's not true!

Afterwards binding
his body and hurling it...

You can't put the blame on me!
George would never have told you that!

- Into the River Grant a.
- I wasn't here that Sunday, I was in Norwich!

You want another thrashing?

You're wasting our time, Mr B.

Are you seriously going to deny it,
when you come into this garden tonight,

wearing the hat of
a murdered man?

I didn't kill him.

George and me, we never
touched the gun till afterwards.

That's the truth.

Mr Campion ain't
in his room, sir.

- His bed haven't been slept in.
- Thank you, Alice.

How about Mr George Faraday?

I knocked, but I couldn't
make him hear.

I expect he's sleeping heavy
after last night.

- I've got the key to his room in my pocket.
- Don't you trouble, sir.

All the keys on this floor fit.

I'll mix him up a stiff
oyster sauce.

Same as Mr Andrew used
to have, and take it in to him.

No, Alice,
I'll take it in to him,

after last night.

What? No.
Tell no one and do nothing.

Uh, yes. I'll be over at once.

There's been another murder
up at the house.

Is this exactly
how you found him?

Exactly. We didn't go any
closer than this, did we, Alice?

No, sir.

Cyanide...

Take Alice out, would you,
Mr Featherstone?

There's your chance, my lad.

If you're right, you can
explain this one as well.

What's happened? What
have they done to George?

If that scoundrel's putting
up any opposition...

He's dead.

George is dead.

Fell down in a drunken fit?

Poisoned, I think.

I'll break it to the mistress.

When is it going to end?

Ah, Mr Faraday, would you oblige me
by stepping in here a moment, please, sir?

- What?
- I must be with him. I'm his lawyer.

Uncle William.

We're on the last lap of this
mystery and we appeal to you,

- all of us...
- My boy, you may count on me.

The cat...

You were here in this room
when it scratched you, weren't you?

Yes, not to put too fine
a point on it, I was.

You let yourself in with
the key of your own door,

and you didn't turn on
the light.

Well, you see, when a man's
rattled, he needs a drink.

I knew that the decanter
downstairs was empty.

Andrew has a bit of a temper,
I'm afraid.

And I remembered that he had
some trick books up here.

Concealed cigarettes,
flasks, other odds and ends.

A technical encyclopaedia...

For the life of me, I don't
know what happened next.

- I must have put out my hand...
- Don't!

Simple, isn't it?

Almost childish, very effective.

Take it to one of your
home office chemists.

I think he'll find traces
of alkaline poison on it.

You mean someone set a trap,
for me?

Oh, good Lord!
That might have killed me.

- No doubt the idea, sir.
- And the murderer is dead.

My man Lugg and I recovered the
gun from the tree at 5:00 this morning.

He was insane, of course.
I'd always suspected that.

I cut him from my will
as a temporary move,

in the hope of bringing him
to reason.

And this was his answer to me.

But how did you come
to your conclusion?

For a long time I was
barking up the wrong tree,

as Lugg so candidly pointed out.

But then, Andrew's sense of
theatre began to intrigue me.

The bare furnishings
in his room,

his cavalier investment in
the outsider Turkey carpet,

romping in at 75 to one.

Mischief, a kind of posthumous
revenge on life, on this family.

Julia, first. It was so easy
to doctor her slimming pills.

He could even count the days
until she would join him.

And suspicion would
naturally fall on Kitty.

William, he'd already ensnared.

The walk to the river,
the argument,

William, with his loss of memory,
would be the prime suspect.

And if he wriggled out of it
by some chance...

There was always the trap of
Hutchinson's Technical Encyclopaedia,

where the brandy was kept.
Sooner or later.

And George? How did he die?

In his room, Andrew left five extremely
filthy blackened pipes and one very new one,

an irresistible temptation
to a man like George.

I dislike tobacco in any form.

And in a pipe, particularly.

The stem was filled
with cyanide.

It's impossible to know who he
intended it for, a random strike, perhaps.

He doesn't seem to have
liked anyone.

May I ask you now, what
hold George had over you?

He was illegitimate. Oh,
we hushed it up, of course.

But people are malicious.
Poor George.

He got to hear of his origins
and exploited them.

Blackmailed me.

I think you're the most
remarkable woman I've ever met.

You're a very dear boy.

Thank you so much for coming.

- Goodbye.
- Well done, Campion, see you at the wedding.

Goodbye, my boy. A little gift.

Got it from a chap in Portside.

- Token of our gratitude.
- Thank you.

Any time you want a quiet
weekend, don't forget us.

- Bye.
- Goodbye.