All language subtitles for Fortune.Is.a.Woman.1957.AAAAAAA

Lowis Manor.

I shall never forget the day I first heard of that house.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve, my second Christmas in the world of insurance.

� Oh, Oliver?
� Yes, Mr. Abercrombie?

Michael says could you slip round to Lloyd's? Apparently something or other has cropped up.

I thought on Christmas Eve everything stopped dead on noon.

Probably some housebreaker was not aware of the date.

Whenever I went into Lloyd's of London, the greatest insurance market in the world,

I felt like a new boy in a very old school, trying to learn it all much too late.

Sometimes the place seemed like the temple of a strange religion,

with the caller sitting under the famous Lutine Bell

like a priest calling the faithful to prayers.

Mills, Godfrey.

Abercrombie, Michael.

Abercrombie, Michael Abercrombie.

Francis Livingston.

Williams, Eric Williams.

� What's up, Michael?
� Oh, it's only a routine job, but

Berkeley Reckitt is the leading underwriter, and we haven't assessed any claims for him before.

He could put a lot of business in our way.

Mr. Reckitt, this is Oliver Branwell, sir. I'm sending him down to assess the claim.

� Good day to you.
� Good day, sir.

Burton Hicks are the brokers. You know their claims manager, Mr. Connor, don't you?

Hello, Fred. We've met.

� And crossed swords.
� Any complaints?
� No.

This is the correspondence. You'll see we're on building and contents.

Tracey Moreton, Lowis Manor, Slaydon, Sussex, had a fire.

Only a small one, shouldn't spoil your Christmas.

I'll drive down and take a look.

Well, Merry Christmas.

� Merry Christmas.
� Merry Christmas.

I saw Lowis Manor for the first time just before five o'clock.

Mr. Abercrombie?

Well, I'm from Abercrombie and Son. My name is Branwell.

Oh, of course. They said someone would be calling.

Well, I'm Mr. Moreton, Tracey Moreton. Do come in.

This is a ridiculous business. My fault, I suppose, really.

Was there much damage?

Oh, could have been a lot more.

My wife and I were putting up the Christmas decorations yesterday,

and as it was infernally cold in the picture gallery

I plugged in another electric fire.

� Whereabouts?
� Oh, just by the window.
� Hmm.

When was the fire discovered?

Oh, uh, between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m.

Trixie woke us, that's my wife's dog.

Must have gone to bed and forgotten to switch the thing off.

And afterwards somebody must have opened that window, and then the wind blew all the decorations over the fire and up they went.

At least that's how we think it happened.

� Oh, this is Clive Fisher, my cousin and neighbour.
� Hello.

� Mr. Egbert, the local builder.
� How do you do?

� Well, it might have been a lot worse.
� It will all have to be rendered.

Well, I wouldn't complain if it wasn't for the Bonnington.

What?

Well, this was commissioned by my great-great-grandfather.

� It's a landscape including this house.
� That was in 1822.

I do beg your pardon, but this smoke seems to have touched up my asthma.

Oh, that will be my dog and Trixie. Excuse me.

Well, Egbert has made out a list.

� If you want anything else, I'll be downstairs. I'll see you before you leave.
� Yes, of course.

Down, Ranger, shut up!

Are you from the insurance company?

Well, yes, I'm assessing the damage for the underwriters.

I'm Mrs. Moreton, Mr. Moreton's mother. I'm afraid it was carelessness.

Well, it quite often is, but fortunately it was caught in time.

Oh, yes, it was caught in time.

My son and my daughter-in-law managed to put it out.

Can I be of any help?

No, thank you, it's quite straightforward.

I'm sure you will be fair.

Well, thanks, just a quick one.

� Now, what's it to be, some sherry or scotch?
� Scotch.

� Soda or water?
� Water.

Well, this is Mr. Brinkle, darling, from the insurance company.

My wife.

How do you do, Mister...

Stop it, Ranger! Ranger!

Trixie, Trixie! Come on, get down here, stop it!

� Branwell.
� What?

Oliver Branwell.

What did I say?

Oh, I'm sorry.

How do you do, Mr. Branwell?

Those nearest to you.

The darker ones on my side are herbal.

Stink to high heaven and don't do your asthma the slightest bit of good.

Well, I like to imagine they do.

You're always saying that it's a nervous complaint, even if it does run in the family.

Not that I had it before the War.

Well, not until Burma, actually.

You weren't in Burma?

Yes, I was with 26th Div. We went into Rangoon from the sea. Why?

Well, I came down inland with 4th Corps.

Well, blow me down!

Here we go.

I warn you Mr. Branwell, you're about to be invited to dinner.

� Yes, you've taken the very words out of my mouth.
� Oh, no, really...

� Oh, thank you. I'd like that.
� Good.

Before the War an old family still meant something.

Mine has fought in every war since the time of Agincourt,

and a grateful government has left us less and less to call our own.

Before long the manor will go, and someone will turn it into a home for retired boilermakers.

And that will be the end of a place where generation upon generation of Moretons have lived graciously.

The Moretons can still do that, Tracey. It's an attitude of mind.

You're an escapist, Mother.

We're all escaping from something, Tracey.

Mother will never agree that people like us have had our day. Haven't we, Branwell?

Well, I don't know that I ever had a day.

Before the War, I was a junior clerk in a tea warehouse at four pounds, 17 and sixpence a week.

And how did you escape from tea to insurance?

I met Michael Abercrombie in Hong Kong just after Korea.

I was a port security officer�I was still in the army.

I helped him to recover some industrial diamonds, and, well, he offered me a job with his firm.

Sarah was in Hong Kong for a time, weren't you, dear?

Yes, for a little while.

No, I act for the underwriters. I adjust the claim so that it's acceptable to both sides.

Almost as good as being a detective.

I find that most people are honest.

Really?

Goodnight.

� Sarah...
� No, Oliver.

� Oh, it has stopped raining.
� Oh, good.

� Now, we must see each other again.
� I was just going to suggest that.

Well, I go up to town from time to time in search of some new cure,

and as for Sarah, she's up there four days a week.

She does fashion designing for Delahaye's.

I must remember that.

Goodnight, Mr. Branwell.

Goodnight, Mrs. Moreton.

There was nothing I could do until after Christmas

except rehearse the things I was going to say.

Hello, Sarah.

Oliver! What are you doing here?

I've called you a half a dozen times at Delahaye's, but they've all said you were out.

� On my instructions.
� But why?

� Meeting will get us nowhere.
� Oh, Sarah, just a few minutes.

� I have a train to catch.
� The next one isn't until 6:30.

� How do you know?
� I've looked it up.

Come on.

Two coffees, please.

Well, it's been a long time.

Is that all you have to say?

Are you happy, Sarah?

� I always think that's such a silly question.
� Oh, now...
� What about you?

Well, you've never had any serious competition either before or after you walked out on me.

Walked out on you? Oliver, didn't you ever hear anything? Afterwards, I mean.

I never moved in Government House or American diplomatic circles.

I know, you were a junior clerk in a tea warehouse at four pounds, 17 and nine pence a week.

Six pence. At all events, I wasn't good enough for your father.

My father, that fine old southern gentleman.

Between spells of being a professional guest, he was sometimes careless about little things like writing cheques.

When I went home that night, that last night, Oliver,

I found they'd told him that if he left quietly nothing would happen.

He begged me to go with him. He broke down and cried.

We went.

Without a word to me.

Well, it never occurred to me that you wouldn't have heard the whole miserable story.

But why didn't you write?

I suppose you could call it pride.

I waited to hear from you.

Well, I had my pride, too.

So between us we had enough pride for a dozen sensible people.

And later on you married Tracey Moreton.

Eventually.

� I think I'd better start...
� Sarah...

Don't ask me again if I'm happy, Oliver, or I'll scream.

I never knew where I was with you, and I'm hanged if I do now!

I'm married to Tracey, and we trust each other.

� But we just can't leave things like this!
� One thing is certain, we can't go back.

Goodbye, Oliver.

And I mean goodbye.

The months went by.

I did not hear of Lowis Manor again until the case of Charles Highbury.

Only, at the time I didn't see the connection at all.

Yes?

I have a tricky assignment for you, Oliver. Ever heard of Charles Highbury?

Highbury. Isn't he the fellow they call the singing miner?

That's right. He's starring in a picture here.

He had a blackout last Tuesday. Knocked himself out and gave himself a black eye.

� That's his story, and it might even be true.
� I'm happy to report there's no doubt about the black eye.

Well, what do the doctors say?

His says he needs a month's complete rest. Ours says he'll be as fit as a fiddle by Monday.

If you can get him back to work by then, so that the film isn't held up, we might save the underwriters 30 or 40,000.

� Here are the particulars.
� I see. Well, where do I find him?
� At his hotel.

He can't very well refuse to see you.

For what it's worth, his wife left hurriedly for New York the same night.

Oh.

How many more times do I have to tell you?

My doctor was quite definite about it.

You don't expect me to kill myself, do you?

Most certainly not, Mr. Highbury,

and may I say the insurance company would welcome it even less.

Well, you can tell them from me that I'm going back when I'm fit and not before.

And if they send any more insurance types I won't see them.

Mrs. Litchen is on the line again, Mr. Highbury. Shall I put her on?

Oh, all right!

� No, tell her I'll call her back.
� But...
� She can wait five minutes, can't she?

Very well, Mr. Highbury.

Now, where was I?

You got as far as you wouldn't see any more types like me.

That's right, why should I?

Good day.

I see. Thank you.

...those awful people from the insurance keep on calling�I, I mean�what with the doctors and, and the studio frantic because he can't get back, Mrs. Litchen.

Yes, I know, Mrs. Litchen.

Mrs. Litchen, hmm.

Yes, I know, Mrs. Litchen, but it's...

Litante, Litapeels, Litauer, Litaweave, Litchen... Mrs. Vere Litchen, 8 Tiverton Gardens.

Oh, I'd like to see Mrs. Litchen on a business matter.

Mrs. Litchen is still asleep.

But I'm sure she wouldn't be interested in insurance.

Well, I'll call back later. Would you tell her it's about a Mr. Charles Highbury?

Who did he say? What name?

Mr. Charles Highbury.

Tell him to come in and wait.

� Will you come in and wait, sir?
� Yes, I will come in and wait.

Sit down, please, sir.

Will you come in here, please, sir?

Yes, thank you.

Do forgive me for receiving you like this, Mr. Branwell, but I had a frantically late night.

Now then, what's all this about Charlie Highbury?

I'm investigating an insurance claim in connection with Mr. Highbury's accident.

I see. Sit down.

� I heard that you were a friend of his.
� How did you hear that?

Well, perhaps I should explain I've just left Mr. Highbury.

I'm surprised our songbird is uttering at all on the subject.

He says that he won't be able to go back to work for a month because of his attack.

Attack is right.

Mix me a drink, would you? Gin and anything that's there. And yourself too, Mr. Branwell.

Oh, thank you very much.

� Look, um, just what am I laying up for myself if I say anything?
� Nothing at all.

� You know that Charlie and I have been around quite a bit since he came over.
� Mm-hmm.

Well, I went out with him that Tuesday. Janet, his wife, was away in Scotland.

After dinner Charlie asked me back to show me his press cuttings.

� I see.
� You don't. He actually showed me his press cuttings.

You don't believe me. Neither did his wife.

She came back unexpectedly, and...?

And caught us deep in his scrapbook�volume 3.

I was just about to summon my carriage

when Janet, remarking, "Take that, you big canary,"

connected on Charlie with a beautiful right swing.

� Here's how.
� Ah, the black eye!

Janet is practically a midget, but our hero went out like a light.

Well, thank you very much, Mrs. Litchen.

That's very satisfactory.

Tell me, do all insurance investigators come like you?

Big, nice hair, deep brown eyes?

I don't know. I probably don't look at them from absolutely the same angle.

I bet you could be fun if just for a couple of hours you could forget insurance risks.

The third party risks might be more to the point, Mrs. Litchen.

� Meaning what?
� Mr. Litchen.

� Oh, he doesn't live here anymore!
� Ah, but you never know, he may get homesick.

Well, goodbye, ma'am, you've been most helpful and... forthcoming.

Mr. Charles Highbury went back to work on Monday.

As I said, I didn't see any connection at all, but a few weeks later, by chance, or so I thought then...

Oh, Mr. Branwell, there's a Mr. Moreton been brought in, not very well.

What is it? Is he all right?

� Oh, it's just his asthma. I hope you don't mind, Branwell.
� Oh, no, I...
� I'm all right. Sorry.

Tracey came up to collect some pictures.

He had asked me to meet him afterwards outside Barber and Curry's�you know, the picture restorers just round the corner�

but when I got there he was lying back in his car, helpless.

Traffic fumes.

� He wanted me to phone his wife. Said you wouldn't mind if I brought him in here.
� No, of course not.

Hello, Ethel?

It's Clive.

Look, is Sarah with you?

Oh, dear.

Well, apparently she said she might be dropping in on you for tea.

Oh, well. Well, never mind.

All right, goodbye.

Tracey was going to take in the Sadler's Wells ballet with Sarah.

He told her to be in the foyer at 7:15. Now we can't locate her.

Perhaps Branwell could go to the theatre and explain to Sarah.

� That's an idea. Would you mind?
� Well, no, I suppose...

I've got the tickets here.

You might like to see the show and then put her on the train later.

� You could have refused.
� Yes, I could have said I only had time to give you the message.

� You could still say that.
� Do you really want me to?

Oh, for goodness' sake, Oliver, get back in the car!

� Look at you, you're wet through.
� That doesn't matter, as long as you're all right.

� Blasted roof!
� Oliver, look at my dress, I'm soaked!
� I'm terribly sorry!

We'll have to skip dinner now.

� I suppose you'd better put me on an earlier train.
� But you'll catch pneumonia.
� I'm tough... I think.

There's only one thing for it. We'll have to go back to my place and you can dry off.

Well, there's no need to look at me like that. I didn't arrange this, either.

Ready, Sarah.

Tinned soup and bacon and egg. That's what the best dinner in London has come down to.

Mmm, smells wonderful. I'm starving!

� You look lovely.
� In this?
� Yes.

Sarah, do you remember that time when...

I don't think we should go into that, Oliver.

All I remember is that we've had a lovely evening, and we're not going to spoil it by remembering anything else.

Sorry.

All right, soup.

� Have you lived in this place long, Oliver?
� Ever since I started in the insurance business.

� It certainly doesn't look very comfortable.
� Oh, I go away from it a lot.

I don't blame you.

It must get awfully lonely here.

Do you think we should go into that?

Sorry.

Tell me about your work, Oliver. Do you get many fake claims?

Some. Mostly dud fires and jewellery losses.

� How can you tell they're fake?
� Oh, all kinds of ways.

For instance, a fire has to be prepared, and quite often the floor burns through and the preparations fall in the basement, and that gives the game away.

Well, in that case it would be better to start the fire in the basement.

� Yes, and stick to old fashioned methods like candles in waste paper baskets.
� How does that work?

� Have you told Tracey you knew me before?
� No, why?

� Tell me about you and him.
� Oliver, I thought we had agreed...

� You know. Tell me!
� No!

� Do you love him?
� He needs me, Oliver.

I told you before we trust each other completely.

We never did, did we?

Our love had some guts to it. It didn't depend on polite exchanges.

Yes, of course I'm jealous of him. Did you expect me to be otherwise?

Do you think I'm going to enjoy the particular form of torture I'm going to suffer during the next few weeks?

� Do you think I can shut out the sort of image that's going to present itself to my mind?
� Oliver, don't.

Don't look at me like that.

Is that you, Sarah?

Yes, Tracey. We were trying not to wake you.

Well, the doctor put me to bed the moment Clive brought me home. So, of course, I had to wake up.

� Hello, Branwell. Come on in.
� Oh no, I...

� I missed my last train. There was an absolute downpour.
� Really. What bad luck.

� Come on in.
� Oh, no, I don't think so. I think I'd...

� Nonsense, nonsense, my dear fellow, I insist.
� Yes, but look at the time.

That's all right. Things are a bit of a mess, I'm afraid.

We have the decorators moving in next week for repairs.

There's woodworm in the balcony and heaven knows what else.

Sarah and I are going for a vacation up in Yorkshire while they're here.

� Are you taking something, Sarah?
� No, thank you.

� Scotch was your poison if I remember, Branwell.
� No, look, I really must be going.

What, after bringing Sarah all the way home?

And besides, you haven't seen this place by daylight.

It's worth looking at, you know. Goes back the devil of a long way.

Domesday.

� What, Mother?
� It's mentioned in Domesday Book.

Oh yes, you're right. Oh, you remember Mr. Branwell? He's staying the night.

I remember Mr. Branwell very well.

Tracey, you ought not to be out of bed.

I can say the same for you, Mother.

I never sleep nowadays.

Well, I'll be up in a minute.

I think I'll be going up, too.

I'm awfully tired.

Oh, thank you for bringing me back. Goodnight.

Goodnight.

� Well, you'll be ready to turn in, too, I expect.
� Oh, no. No...
� Come on.

� Look, I, I'm being an awful nuisance.
� Nonsense!

� I've no shaving gear or toothbrush.
� I'll fix you up with everything.

Perfectly easy. I won't take no for an answer.

It's this way through the gallery.

Mind those steps.

Elliott has been hanging the Lippi and the Constable.

Barber and Curry certainly freshened them up, don't you think?

Not that you can really tell by this light.

We'll have another look in the morning.

Though I expect you'll be wanting to talk over old times with Sarah, eh?

What do you mean?

Well, I gather you used to know each other in the old days.

Who told you that?

Sarah, of course.

Watch your step when you get into this dark corner.

The Moretons used to farm all this land themselves,

but, what with death duties and taxes,

they've either sold it or rented most of it.

� Sarah, why did you lie to me last night?
� What do you mean?

Well, you said you had never told Tracey we had met before.

I suppose I was embarrassed.

I hate to see you lie.

I'm a very imperfect human being, as you should have realised.

Oliver, I don't know what to do.

Separation hasn't worked out, has it?

� Look...
� I know. You think we made a mistake

five years ago and we belong together, but

that stops being practical the minute I look at Tracey.

Yes, I know.

There's such a thing as self-respect. You've got to be able to live with yourself.

I do understand.

And now, sir, if you will half turn in your seat,

you'll observe the prospect of Lowis Manor from the southwest,

as painted by Bonnington in the year 1822 from this very spot.

� That's funny.
� What's that?

� Well, I've got a strange feeling I've been here before.
� Perhaps you have.

� No, never, not up here.
� Oh, you're probably thinking of our Bonnington landscape.

No. No, that couldn't be.

Why not?

Well, it was destroyed during the fire Christmas Eve.

Oh, yes, of course, there was nothing left to see.

It was not until I was driving back to London that I did remember.

And if I was right, if I was right...

� Yes?
� Mrs. Litchen?

� She's out. Do you have an appointment?
� Yes, Branwell is the name.

� She didn't mention it.
� Oh, she said if she wasn't back would I wait.

� She did?
� Hmm.
� Oh, I guess it's okay then.

� Do you have business with Mrs. Litchen?
� Uh, yes.

� What business?
� Well, actually, I called to discuss increasing the insurance cover on the contents here.

� That's strange.
� Why?

� They don't belong to Mrs. Litchen.
� Oh, don't they?

No, sir, they belong to me. This is my apartment. Mrs. Litchen has occupied it since I went back to the States.

Oh, well, I must have misunderstood her.

Yes, you must.

� My name is Croft, Willis Croft.
� How do you do?

I want to tell you that Mrs. Litchen is a very lovely lady, Mr. Branwell.

� We aim to be married in the fall.
� Congratulations.

Well, I'm sorry to have troubled you.

That's a very fine landscape.

It's a Bonnington, isn't it?

That's correct, a Bonnington. A very lovely painter of a very lovely period.

Are you sure it's the original?

I don't collect copies, sir.

How did you manage to find it?

� A dealer I know sent a lady to me with it.
� A lady?

Said she was acting for an old family that had been hit by the War.

What was she like?

25, 26, good looker.

Tallish, strawberry blonde hair, and blue eyes?

What are you, a relative?

It's just that I think I know the same dealer.

I recollect she seemed kind of pleased when I told her I'd be taking that picture right home with me to the States.

Of course, that was before I met Mrs. Litchen.

� That not only changed my plans, I guess it's changed my whole life.
� I guess it has.

Yoohoo, Poopsie!

You?

What's he doing... doing here?

Come to think of it, I'm not entirely clear, honey.

I called in about that matter we discussed last time and found Mr. Croft here.

Oh, I see.

When I saw Mr. Croft, I realised I had misunderstood you and that our business couldn't mature.

Well, I'm, I'm sorry if I misled you at all, Mr., um, Branwell, isn't it?

That's perfectly all right.

� Goodbye, Mr. Croft.
� Goodbye.
� I'll see you to the door.

It was naughty of you to call in without ringing me first, but I must say you carried it off very cleverly.

He leaves Wednesday. I'm in the book.

Goodbye.

� Oh, Fred!
� Oh, hello, Oliver.

� Do you still handle Tracey Moreton's business?
� Tracey Moreton? Yes, why?

Oh, it's nothing important, I just wondered if he had taken my advice and increased the insurance on Lowis Manor lately.

As a matter of fact, he has, by 50%.

� Mr. Connor?
� Oh!

Moreton? We've never had any dealings with a Mr. Moreton, sir.

And you haven't restored a Constable or a Filippo Lippi for him?

Constable?

No, we haven't touched one of either of those for anybody for some years, sir.

� Yes?
� I have Mr. Dane for you now.
� Put him on, will you?

Mr. Dane?

Yes, that's right.

I think I'm on to a fraud.

I can't talk about it yet, but can you put me in touch with somebody who can give me

some elementary guidance on how to tell a genuine old master from a fake?

Here's something about the Filippo Lippi period. Genuine, of course.

I'm taking it that a really elaborate fake wouldn't be necessary if they're only made to be burnt.

� Now, I want you to notice that network of fine cracks.
� Oh, yes.

When a faker tries to imitate cracks like that he often makes them too coarse, too wide.

Another point. Lippi painted on wooden panels.

Under the circumstances, the faker may not have been too particular about aging the wood. Probably only dirtied it down.

Try rubbing it with a solution, see if anything comes away.

With the genuine article nothing should happen at all.

Now about the Constable, that's a different kettle of fish.

Now I knew what I had to do and what to look for.

I knew that Sarah and Tracey had planned to leave for Yorkshire that afternoon

and drop his mother off in London, with old Elliott to look after her.

If I was right I ought to find the house empty.

What's that?

Who is it?

Tracey?

Tracey!

Who's there?

Hello? Emergency! Fire!

Lowis Manor, near Slaydon. It's a bad one!

� Who is that, what name?
� Moreton, Tracey Moreton, hurry!

Tracey!

No.

No!

Yes?

� I've been trying to get you for a quarter of an hour. Have you seen this morning's papers?
� Not yet. Why?

� Lowis Manor was burnt down last night.
� What? Well, how did it happen? Was anyone there?

Only Tracey Moreton. I'm afraid he's had it, Oliver.

Yes, they found his body.

They think he must have smelt the smoke and run out to look over.

There was a temporary balcony rail across, and it gave way.

Hello?

What about his wife?

She had gone ahead to Yorkshire, 200 miles away.

They broke the news to her there early this morning.

I see.

We'll be handling the claim, no doubt. I thought perhaps you would like to get down there right away.

I can't, Michael. I can't do that.

I mean, that's why I couldn't get to the phone.

I've sprained my ankle.

Well, I, I met a man from my old regiment, and we made a night of it.

I got back here as high as a kite and fell halfway down a flight of stairs, if you must know.

Trust you not to do things by halves. Well, I'll have to get down there myself, that's all.

I'm sorry this has happened to the Moretons. I know they're friends of yours. I'll phone you when I get back.

All right.

Who's there?

Michael.

Perfect.

Just a minute!

You all right, Oliver?

Just coming!

Come in.

� Hangover too.
� That's right.

I'd never have believed it of you, Oliver.

Well, I got back early so I thought I might just as well call in on the way.

Oh, I'm sorry, can I help?

Well, you can fix us both a drink.

Well?

The place is a ruin. They saved part of one wing, that's all.

� How did it start?
� Difficult to say.

The house had been full of workmen during the day, and I suppose somebody was careless, as usual.

Writing to the family?

His mother. Thanks.

� Was there nobody there except Tracey?
� No, and unfortunately the gate house was empty.

Well, how was that?

There were some new tenants coming in, but Tracey's wife put them off until she and Tracey were due back from Yorkshire.

Pity, as it turned out.

It certainly was.

Michael, I'd like you to carry on and finish this job if you don't mind.

Why?

It's just that I'd like it that way in this case.

Very well, if it will satisfy you.

� Now, do you think you can get downstairs if you lean on me?
� What?

� I'm driving you around to my physiotherapist. He'll fix that ankle of yours in no time.
� No, I can't do that.

� Why not?
� I told the office I'd be here.

� Well, that's simple, I'll give them a call.
� But there's another reason.

� What?
� My own doctor is collecting me for an X-ray.

Why didn't you say so?

Well, I must be getting back. Let me know if there's anything I can send you.

� Michael?
� Hmm?

I suppose everything will go to her?

The insurance on the contents goes to the widow, absolutely.

Though I shouldn't think she'll stay a widow very long.

Why do you say that?

What, with her looks and a small fortune?

Well, goodbye. And keep off them stairs!

Dear Oliver,

It was kind of you to write to Tracey's mother as you did.

I thought I'd surely see you at the inquest,

but you were not there, and you left no word for me.

I seem to have heard from all of my friends except the one who means the most.

A strange letter. Not a word about the claim.

But why should I have looked for anything?

What did I expect from her, confession?

I took refuge in my work.

In due course the claim was settled in full.

Sarah received 30,000 pounds.

Of course I should have spoken, but how could I without giving her away?

Oliver.

� Are you looking for me?
� Do you mind?

No.

Do come in.

It's more uncomfortable than ever.

Well, it's not, shall we say, Lowis Manor, but the chairs are clean.

You never came to see me.

No, did you expect me to?

Was that expecting too much?

Yes.

Obviously, I shouldn't have come.

I thought perhaps...

Yes, tell me that, tell me just what you did think. I should like to know.

Well, I remembered, before, pride didn't get us anywhere...

and I thought there might have been some scruples...
� Scruple is the word!

What?

Haven't you anything else to tell me?

What do you mean?

Oh, come off it! That starry-eyed innocence doesn't ring the bell anymore.

Well, go on. Don't stop there.

The truth is, I felt too sick, sick to the stomach, to bother to see you.

I know all about the fire. It went wrong on the night for Tracey,

but that didn't stop you from cashing in.
� What are you saying?

� I kept my mouth shut! I betrayed every principle that's supposed to govern my job. What more do you expect?
� Oliver!

Oh, you're wasting your valuable time.

I know that Bonnington was a copy.

And I know that fire at Christmas was just a small-time rehearsal for the big one later on.

You and Tracey had a bit of luck then, didn't you? I was sent down to settle the claim.

� Nothing like an old flame to help the new fire along.
� Stop it!

Up the garden path I trotted, falling for the whole elaborate stinking piece of fiction. Asthma attacks...

� You can't possibly be suggesting that I...
� I'm suggesting, in addition to my other insulting, and rightly so, suggestions,

that Mr. Tracey Moreton deliberately put his charmingly cooperative wife in my way!

� I thought at first that you might be an unwilling partner, playing Tracey's hand because you were his wife!
� Let me go!

Can you deny that you sold that Bonnington to an American called Willis Croft?

Deny? You must be ill with suspicion and jealousy!

If you've been keeping your mouth shut for my sake, then open it!

Say whatever you like. Go to the police.

Do whatever you want to smear Tracey. His memory can stand up to it.

� What, no drink?
� No, thank you.
� Oh, do have one.

� Ah...
� Have a sausage!
� Thank you.

Mr. Croft.

Mr. Croft.

Hello!

Great to have you here, glad you could make it!

Jack, Wilma, do you know Mr. Ferguson?

� No, but... Hi, Mr. Ferguson.
� Hello. How are you, Mr. Ferguson?
� I just want to...
� Have you kissed the bride?
� No.

� You have to kiss the bride!
� You must kiss the bride!
� Vere!
� You certainly do!

� Mr. Croft, you remember when you bought the Bonnington...
� Huh?

� The Bonnington, there!
� I was wrong, you're not Ferguson.
� That's right.

� Is this the woman you bought it from?
� I guess it's like her. Say, what is this?

� Congratulations, Willis, darling! I know you're going to be madly happy.
� That's very pretty of you.
� Hello, darling!

� Are you sure it's the same?
� Who said it was the same?

� Then it's not?
� It's the same type, sure enough, but it's certainly not the same girl.

� Are you positive?
� Sure, I can remember faces, even if you're not Ferguson. Your name is right on the tip of my tongue.

� Well, that's fine. Thank you.
� Say, what is this?

Oh, here's Mr. Ferguson, who hasn't kissed the bride.

Ferguson, my foot. It's the man from the Prudential.

Darling, you do turn up at the most extraordinary times.

Pardon me.

Yes, sir?

Uh, Mrs. Moreton. Number 3, isn't it?

What name is it, sir?

What name?

Sarah, Sarah!

I've just seen Willis Croft, and I was wrong. I was mistaken, but that's only a part of it. Now you must listen to me...

� Are you all right, madam?
� Will you kindly show this gentlemen downstairs?

Look, I'm going to talk to you if I have to take this place apart brick by brick. We've got to work this out!

It's all worked out, finished, done. There's nothing more to talk about.

� Look, I've made one terrible mistake and I'm sorry...
� Shall I fetch someone, Mrs. Moreton?
� Yes, hurry!

...but Croft did buy the Bonnington. Probably half the pictures in Lowis Manor were fakes.

Now, look, Tracey was shamming when Fisher found him that day. The fire was a put-up job from start to finish.

Are you going to leave now, or are you going to wait until I have you thrown out?

I tell you, I saw it for myself!

I was there!

� There?
� Yes, at the fire.

� I don't believe you.
� I made that alarm call, not Tracey.

Here's the scar where I burnt myself.

Tracey was already dead.

That fire had been started by exactly the same method that I told you about. In the basement.

� Here he is.
� I understand this man is annoying you, Mrs. Moreton.

� What? Oh, no, no.
� No?

� You did ask me to fetch someone, madam.
� Yes, I know. It's been a mistake. I'm sorry!

Oh, I see. Thank you.

Oliver, tell me.

Tell me.

I can see now how everything pointed to me.

But darling, believe me, I never said a word to Tracey about any way of starting a fire.

It was an old enough trick.

What were the other things?

Well, it just wasn't one thing, it was the whole lot taken together.

I've been a fool.

You said that I must have been ill with suspicion and jealousy. I think I was.

And you never said anything to anyone.

Now what's to be done, Oliver?

I must give the money back.

Yes, that must be done.

It, it's an awkward job, but I'm sure the underwriters will be sympathetic.

Tracey.

Strange how you think you know someone so well, and then suddenly realise you never knew how their mind worked at all.

Oliver, take me out somewhere, where I don't have to think.

I think that night we went slightly mad. A great weight had been lifted from us. Our problems seemed to have melted away.

� Sarah, will you marry me?
� Mmm, yes, Oliver.

� Soon?
� How soon?

� Saturday.
� Saturday this week or next week?
� This.

� Oliver, you're not serious?
� But I am!

� But, darling, it's too soon.
� Now, if we wait you'll change your mind.

� Don't you trust me?
� Of course not! Never could.

Sarah, darling, we've lost five years already. Five years wasted.

But darling, I have nothing to wear.

Besides, there's a little matter of 30,000 pounds to be returned and heaven knows what explanations.

Michael doesn't get back until Saturday.

We'll get married and see him right afterwards and get him to arrange about the money, then in the afternoon we can fly to France. What do you think?

� You're not giving me time to.
� Wonderful!

Perhaps I didn't give myself time to think, either.

� Have you got the cheque?
� Yes, darling.

� Good morning.
� Good morning, sir.

� Good morning.
� Good morning.
� Good morning, Mr. Branwell.

Michael.

� Oh, Mr. Branwell, I've been trying to get you at home, but you must have been out.
� Yes, I was.

� Mr. Michael has been kept in Liverpool.
� Oh, no!

Yes, he phoned just after 10:00 to say his father was running a temperature, and he felt he ought to stay with him.

� Well, when will he be back?
� Oh, not till Monday, now.

� Can I give him any message while you're away, Mr. Branwell?
� What?

Well... perhaps you could say that Mrs. Moreton and I were married this morning, and we just called in to get his blessing.

� Darling, what are we going to do?
� We'll see him when we get back, that's all. I can't see another week is going to make any difference.

And for a few wonderful days it didn't,

until, on the Friday, when the mail arrived.

Ah, here's one for you.

Oh. I wonder who this can be from?

Maybe it's a wedding present.

Oh, listen to this, it's from Michael.

"The news knocked us completely sideways. We never thought that you of all people

would dash off and get hitched at five..."
� Ah!!

It's Tracey's ring!

He always wore it.

Always.

We could have stayed another day, but we left for home the following morning.

� Oh, there you are, Fisher.
� Hello, Branwell.

� I'm sorry. I'm a couple of minutes late.
� Oh, that's all right. Move, Ranger.

� Coffee?
� Thanks.
� One cappuccino.
� Thank you.

By the way, your telegram intrigued me. What's it all about?

Well, first of all, Sarah doesn't know that I'm meeting you.

Oh, I won't split.

If I remember rightly, you identified Tracey Moreton.

Yes, I did, poor fellow. Why?

Is this his ring?

Yes, yes, that's his all right.

Was it still on his finger when you saw the body?

Yes, of course.

You seem very positive.

Well, it was one of the means of identification.

Why? What's the matter?

Someone sent it to Sarah when we were in France. Just the ring, nothing else.

Oh. Shows a very warped sense of humour.

If sense of humour is the right term.

Yes, the work of a very unpleasant mind.

� I don't like the way you're looking at me, Branwell. You don't think I'd do a thing like that just because...
� No, no, no, no.
� I should think not.

I just want to know who sent it.

Of course. Who knew where you were staying? Isn't that a point?

No, it doesn't apply. It was just sent to my office, marked 'Please Forward'.

Well, I wish I could help.

Excuse me, would you pass the sugar, please? Thank you.

� You say that you had to identify Tracey by objects.
� That's true.

You meant that the body wasn't recognizable?

I'm afraid it wasn't.

Oh.

I see.

Hello, darling.

Well, there's nothing much in the papers. The world seems to have gone on in the same way since we've been away.

Yes.

� Been out?
� No.

Well, how about a drink? A glass of sherry?

No, thanks.

I've just had tea.

Tea for two, and two for tea.

What? What's happened?

Oh, Oliver, I, I wasn't going to tell you.

It happened just after you had left.

The telephone rang. I answered it,

and a voice said, "I'm having tea downstairs, Mrs. Branwell,

and I thought you might like to join me." Just like that.

I said, "Who is it?"

He said his name is Mr. Jerome.

He wanted to talk to me about the fire at Lowis Manor.

He said I'd regret it very much if I missed an opportunity to have a little chat.

He was a polite, harmless-looking man eating buttered toast.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Branwell. How very nice of you to come down.

Take a seat, will you? I've taken the liberty of ordering a pot for two.

What do you want?

It's not what I want, Mrs. Branwell, it's what my client wants.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

Oh, there's no need to pretend with me, Mrs. Branwell.

Certain monies have come into your hands

as a result of the unfortunate fire in which�

shall I be mother?�

in which your late unfortunate husband met his death.

To wit, 30,000 pounds.

Well?

My client has proof that that fire was not accidental.

� Two lumps?
� If that's the case, then why hasn't your client gone to the police?

Ho, ho. Can you see the police handing over a cheque for 15,000 pounds?

15,000 pounds?

Half of 30.

My client would undertake to leave you in undisturbed enjoyment of the other half.

I see.

I'm not used to talking blackmail over tea and buttered toast.

Really, Mrs. Branwell, I take the keenest exception to that remark.

You mean it's only blackmail when someone else does it?

� I'm merely presenting the bill. My client would say nothing at all about the fraud.
� Fraud?

Oh, come, come, Mrs. Branwell, come, come, come.

We have proof that you were in it as well and that your present husband was an accessory after the fact.

Indeed.

Well, he's not likely to be frightened by anonymous blackmail either.

Nothing like whistling to keep your courage up, is there?

You have a talk to hubby, by all means, and I'll come back here at nine o'clock tonight for your answer.

One must live, you know.

Why?

I tried so hard not to show how frightened I really was.

There, you said all the right things.

I wonder who his client can be?

I don't know.

Anyway, we're together now.

They can't take that away from us, can they?

Can they?

Sarah,

that night of the fire... I didn't tell you, but I thought I heard someone in the dark.

But you said he was dead when you found him.

I was sure he was dead.

If Tracey sent the ring...

Sarah.

If...

if Tracey sent...

Stop it, Sarah! Of course, he didn't!

It was Tracey.

� Oliver, I know it was Tracey!
� Sarah!

� I know it was Tracey!
� You must keep your head!
� I know it was!

Look, Jerome is the way we can find out. You must keep that appointment at nine!

Now, you must keep it, you must!

Is it any use waiting any longer?

He has probably seen you through the window and thought it was a trap.

Maybe he's waiting outside. I think I'll take Trixie for a walk around the block.

All right. Don't be long.

� Mr. Oliver Branwell?
� Yes?

Mr. Jerome?

No, sir, the name is Barnes, Detective inspector Barnes.

Is there anywhere we could go for a little chat, sir?

What about?

It's to do with the fire at Lowis Manor a few months back.

Oh, yes. I suppose we'd better go up to the apartment.

I'll just leave a message for my wife.

When Mrs. Branwell gets back, will you say that I've taken Detective Inspector Barnes upstairs?

� Uh, Detective Constable Watson.
� Good evening, sir.
� Evening. I'll lead the way.

Well, in what way can I help you?

I don't quite know, sir, yet.

Would you, uh, care for a drink, gentlemen?

Not on duty, if you don't mind.

I believe you were a friend of Mr. Tracey Moreton?

I was on quite friendly terms with him, yes.

No, thank you, sir. Thanks awfully. In training, you know.

And the family generally? I take it that's not too much to assume?

In view of the fact that I married the widow?

Well, I wasn't going to say that, sir.

Well, I said it for you.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Well... do sit down.

� Thank you.
� Thank you, sir.

Could you tell me when you first met Mr. Moreton, sir?

Well, it was nearly a year ago, when my firm sent me down to Lowis Manor. Why?

Oh, it's just a matter of tying up a few loose ends.

And you'd never met him before?

No, never.

� And the same would hold good for Mrs. Tracey Moreton?
� What?

Your wife, sir. Had you ever met her before?

Oh, yes, as a matter of fact, I had.

Oh? When would that have been, sir?

Oh, it must be five years ago, when I was in Hong Kong.

Oh. Did you know her well, sir?

Yes.

I see.

� So, uh, naturally, you kept in touch.
� No.
� No?

No!

� Sarah.
� I was eavesdropping.

But then, who wouldn't, when one gets a message that you're here with a real, live police inspector?

� Oh, this is my wife.
� How do you do?

And just why is Mr.�Barnes?�so interested in our ancient history?

� Oh, just tying up...
� Just tying up a few loose ends.

Well, just to tie up one loose end very firmly, we lost complete touch after Hong Kong.

You mean, sir, that it was just a coincidence that you happened to meet again at Lowis Manor?

� Of course, it was!
� My dear, he's only doing his job.
� Yes, but what, precisely, is his job just now?

Well, uh, Mrs. Branwell, our file on the Lowis Manor case isn't quite tidy enough for our liking.

Oh, and just how is it untidy?

� Well, Mister...
� Sorry, sir.

Mr. Moreton was supposed to have telephoned the alarm 12 minutes before the firemen arrived.

Mmm?

Then he ran out to look down over the balcony, and the temporary rail broke.

And?

Well, that was the theory. But, in the first place, there wasn't any telephone upstairs at all.

What?

Apparently that didn't emerge at the inquest, so nobody put two and two together.

Making them five?

I haven't mentioned any score yet, Mrs. Branwell, but by any arithmetic,

it seems untidy for an asthmatic to have telephoned from a downstairs room,

and run up the staircase, and in the end being found dead downstairs.

And what do you deduce from that?

Well, sir, we think that someone else may have been in the house and done the phoning.

Why?

I suppose you were in London on the night of the fire, sir. Do you happen to remember?

Yes, I remember it very well.

As a matter of fact, I slipped on the stairs and sprained my ankle.

� Anyone with you?
� No.

I suppose you telephoned his, uh�your, uh�Mrs. Branwell after the fire?

We had no contact at all until two weeks ago.

You mean to say you didn't even correspond with her for five months after the fire?

Are you accusing my wife of lying?

No, sir.

Dear, he's only doing his job.

Well, I think that's all for just now.

Thanks for your help and you too, ma'am.

A pleasure.

Uh, you'll be staying here for some time?

Oh, yes. Until we can find a place of our own.

Yes, apartments aren't easy, are they?

Oh, by the way, sir, is that your car outside?

Which one?

The black sports car.

Yes.

Uh, does she go all right?

Fine.

Good. Goodnight.

Goodnight, sir.

Goodnight, madam.

He thinks you and I conspired to commit an insurance fraud and that I probably killed Tracey.

No.

Do you see what this means?

When I go back to the office tomorrow I can't tell Michael Abercrombie now.

It would be like saying, "Here's 30,000 pounds. Take it quick before they arrest me, it's hot."

We're stuck with that money, Sarah. Saddled with it.

Hello, Fred.

Oh, back, I see.

I hear from Berkeley Reckitt that you're still holding up a settlement on the Kilandy Furs claim.

� Well, I think Kilandy ought to produce his books.
� Oh, is that so?

Well, now, listen, Fred, I'm not just trying to be awkward.

You think he's a swindler, do you?

Frankly, yes.

Well, no one can say that yours isn't an expert opinion.

� What do you mean by that?
� Do I have to explain?

You haven't heard the last of this, not by a long chalk.

I didn't want to worry you about a ridiculous rumour on your first day back.

� Dad and I have paid no attention to it at all, I assure you.
� Thank you, Michael.

All the same, you shouldn't have hit Connor. Only cause trouble.

Yes, I know. I'm sorry.

What ridiculous rumours has he been spreading?

Do we have to go into that? No one who knows you believes it for one moment.

� Well, some folk have a peculiar way of showing it.
� Who?
� Berkeley Reckitt, for one.

� This morning he looked at me as though there was a bad smell in the neighbourhood.
� I always thought that was his normal expression.

Well, perhaps I'd better ask him.

Well, if you must know,

the story is that your car was seen outside Lowis Manor on the night of the fire.

I know it's ridiculous.

But, of course, events have taken place which make one understand how these...

Hello, yes?

Who wants him?

It's a Mr. Jerome for you, Oliver.

Do you know him?

Yes.

Put him on.

Hello, Branwell speaking.

Good day. I've been telephoning your wife, but she's out, and it's very urgent.

I'm afraid I was unable to keep my appointment last night owing to a nasty bilious attack.

I'm afraid I ate something that didn't agree with me. Something on the toast, it was...

Can you come to the point, Mr. Jerome?

Well, the point is that my client is pressing.

Your wife must meet me tonight with the money, or I'm afraid I can't answer for the consequences.

I doubt whether that kind of threat

will advance the settlement of your claim.

I'm only passing on a message, you know.

All right, name a time and place.

By the bandstand in the Embankment Gardens. I'll be in front of the Burns statue, nine o'clock sharp again.

All right, Mr. Jerome.

Taxi!

There's one!

No, you'd better stay here in the cab.

Oliver, I must know who it is.

Two and a half, please. Ta!

� What are you doing here? You've no right...
� Shut up!
� Get out, get out of here!

I must warn you, you're committing a trespass.

I thought when we didn't show up you'd report to the boss, Jerome. Who is he?

Who copied those pictures?

Get out of here!

� The same type but not the same girl.
� What?
� Strawberry blonde and blue eyes.

� If you don't get out of here I'll call the police!
� I wouldn't do that. I think the police might be very interested in a girl who sold a Bonnington to an American called Willis Croft.

Oliver, look!

Another copy of the Lippi!

Oh, no.

Portrait of the artist as a young woman.

You copied those pictures.

� Who paid you for them?
� Shh, listen!

Keep quiet, the pair of you.

Stay where you are, Jerome.

Clive!

I couldn't help it, Mr. Fisher.

I waited an hour. They must have followed me.

You bilious ass!

So it was you.

You all the time.

Do you know what you've done to Sarah?

As they used to say a few years back, is my face red.

Oliver, do you realise it was only Clive?

Yes, I suppose you thought you'd cash in on Tracey's plan?

It wasn't Tracey's plan, it was mine, most of it, anyway.

What's the matter with you?

I'm not feeling very well, Mr. Fisher. The nervous excitement, I think.

Well, crawl off to the appropriate place and be sick!

One has to do absolutely everything oneself nowadays!

Ambrosine, I could do with a drink.

Darn silly name, Ambrosine.

Did you bring the money with you?

What, after this?

You must be crazy, Clive!

Well, you may have pulled my whiskers off, but I can't see that it makes any basic difference.

Well, you won't get it!

We're making a full statement to the police.

What?

Good heavens, what barefaced effrontery!

You're trying to put your hat on my head!

You cottoned on to Tracey's little plan and came to an arrangement with Sarah.

Poor old Tracey went over the balcony.

You assisted him, for all I know.

And a very sordid story it is, too�even if I am prepared to overlook it for 15,000.

You were at Lowis Manor that night. I heard you.

I wasn't even in England.

I was in France on a wine tasting trip, and I had to fly back to identify him.

You can't prove that!

Of course I can.

Ask the secretary of the Wine Fellowship.

Well, don't stand there staring at me like a couple of idiots.

I'd lie myself blue in the face if necessary, but I'm not lying now.

I'm just a single-minded fellow with one aim in view: 15,000 pounds!

Thank you, my dear.

Then... if it wasn't you I heard that night, who was it?

Nobody.

But you sent me Tracey's ring. It was you, wasn't it, Clive?

I've told your new husband already, no!

I don't know anything about it.

I wouldn't do a thing like that.

Look out for her!

Sarah!

Here, you'd better give her this.

All right, now take it gently.

� Oliver, what are we going to do?
� Oh, Fisher can't touch us without giving himself away.

� I don't mean that.
� Now, now, you sit here for a bit.

We are not going to talk about it anymore, not tonight.

Now, you must sleep.

I'll get you something.

� Oliver?
� Yeah?

Trixie is gone.

Well, she's probably in the bedroom.

No, I shut the door.

Well, you stay there.

Trixie?

Trixie?

She's not there.

No, she must have got out.

Or maybe she was barking and the porter took her downstairs.

It was always Tracey she liked best.

The next day everything came to a head.

Mr. Abercrombie, they called me in the Room. You wanted me?

Would you come back to the office, Oliver? There's something we must discuss urgently.

Oh.

Very well, Mr. Abercrombie, I'll come along immediately.

Good afternoon.

� Uh, you will let us know if you change your address, won't you, Mr. Branwell?
� Yes.

I know why you've sent for me, and I don't blame you.

We intended telling you the whole story and returning the money the day you couldn't get back from Liverpool. I've been carrying Sarah's cheque about with me ever since. You'd better take it now.

Well, you can see the date.

But then, you can put any date you like on a cheque, can't you, so it doesn't mean a thing.

Yes, I was at Lowis Manor that night. It was bound to come out sometime. I'm only sorry you had to hear it from Barnes first.

We didn't hear anything from Barnes.

What?

He merely asked me if it was true that I'd seen you the day after the fire.

And if I could confirm that you'd sprained your ankle.

I answered yes to each question.

We added we had complete confidence in your integrity.

Well, you can see how mistaken you were. I'm afraid you're not a very good picker, Michael.

I've kept my mouth shut when I should have spoken, and I've lied to you both since.

But�oh, I can't expect anybody in their right mind to believe it�I was not a party to the fraud, and I had nothing to do with Moreton's death!

If you'll take my advice, you won't make the mistake of trying to defend me, you'll just bury me as decently and as quietly as possible.

Hello.

Sarah?

Darling, I tried to get you at the office.

I've thought of something.

I'm going down to Lowis Manor.

Please don't try to follow me.

This is something I must do alone.

No, you must!

You've come at the end of a battle, Mr. Branwell.

I'm tired of fighting, so I've lost.

� What?
� I found that cigarette, Oliver, and then it came to me.

I thought of the breathing, and I remembered that she used to be an asthmatic, too, and then I...

� Your wife has been an hour persuading me, dictating terms.
� Oh, no!

I'm to make a statement, I'm to denounce my dead son, I'm to shout our disgrace from the housetops!

� Sarah...
� Please, Oliver.

She took Trixie.

She sent the ring.

Because you were disloyal to Tracey!

Where was Tracey's loyalty to me? And yours?

When you suspected that he arranged the first fire, did you tell me?

Did either of you do anything but hide the truth?

Did you?

No.

You're right.

In my heart I was always afraid that he might try again.

And when he arranged so carefully for us all to be away, I knew.

What happened, Mrs. Moreton?

I left London that night and came back alone.

When I got here, Tracey had his coat on and was going to get the car out.

I could tell by his face at once when he saw me,

so I told him why I had returned.

At first he laughed and said I was crazy.

Then, he suddenly lost his temper,

shouted at me that it was true, but that it was too late, the fire was already alight.

Then he ran up the stairs in a rage like a madman, tore down the curtains, and started to throw them down into the hall.

I clung to him to stop him!

But he wrenched himself away and fell back against the balcony rail where it was being repaired.

I heard it break away.

He screamed!

And then I think I must have fainted.

The next thing I remember someone was moving about, coming up the stairs.

I was frightened.

I found I could hardly get my breath.

But somehow, I, I managed to get away.

Since then, I've been as you see me now.

I understand, Mrs. Moreton, you're willing to make the same statement elsewhere?

� Thank you, Mrs. Moreton.
� Thank you, Mrs. Moreton.
� Thank you.
� Thank you, Mrs. Moreton.

The War changed Tracey.

You wouldn't have known him before.

One must learn to forgive the times one lives in.

� Well, gentlemen, this surely puts a very different complexion on the matter.
� I entirely agree.
� The money has been returned and the criminal brought to booking.

� And since I started this, I should like to say...
� Branwell's conduct may have been irregular...
� Irregular? I should say so!
� The point is, Branwell said nothing about this for five months.
� Exactly, exactly!
� I started this and I'm completely satisfied!

� One moment, gentlemen, please!
� On a point of order!
� Gentlemen!

Thank you, Michael, you're a very generous friend.

I just want to say this for myself.

Any decision this inquiry comes to must be mine too.

Now, that's not egotism or just old buck,

because in the last resort it's one's own opinion of oneself that really counts,

and in my opinion I don't come out of this very well.

I've failed as an adjuster because I failed to see where my first duty lay.

I've failed as an ordinary citizen because a private loyalty isn't enough in a business founded on trust.

I'm resigning, because it seems to me to be the only honourable thing to do.

Thank you.

� Well, there you are, you see, Berkeley? You see what happens.
� Well, I started all this, and...

It was not until we were walking away through the market afterwards that I realised how much of my heart was in my job and how much I loved it.

But I told myself my mind was made up.

I told Fred Connor too.

And Michael, and Berkeley Reckitt.

They said, couldn't we talk it over quietly?

I told them no.

But then Sarah said, surely there

couldn't be any harm in just discussing it.

And, well, there couldn't be any harm

in just discussing it, could there?