All language subtitles for Nicolas.Le.Floch.S05E02.Murder.at.the.hotel.Saint-Florentin.Part.2

NICOLAS LE FLOCH

Adapted from the novels
by Jean-François Parot

THE CRIME AT SAINT-FLORENTIN HOUSE

The poor soul
won't linger for much longer.

When will God, in His mercy,

think it best to end his suffering?

How cruel for him to die like this,
it is but a taste of the grave.

Come, Choiseul, it's not worth it.

You know you're not welcome here.

The King is dying
and you want to deny me

the simple act of bowing before him
once last time?

What is the meaning
of this indignity!

We needn't look further than you,

with your detestable mania
for conspiracy,

your vile lust for duplicity.

You are not permitted here.

Disappear.

Marquis, if you please, see him out.

Sir, if you please.

Unnecessary, sir.

Unnecessary.

That vile little insect!

Will he never cease in causing harm?

The King is dead.

The King is dead.

The King is dead!
Long live the King!

Long live the King!

Not you, your Majesty.

I need to close his eyes...

Not you.

Your grandfather's illness
could spread to you too.

Who will do it, then?

I will, your Majesty.

The King is dead.
Long live the King.

The King is dead.
Long live the King!

Do you have any idea, sir,

as to the identity
of the person behind this mask?

None, sir.

And I couldn't care less.

So long as the money is good

and it flows abundantly
into my pockets...

When do you intend to proceed?

As soon as night falls.

Have you been able to acquire
the appropriate object?

Without any hassle.

Do you at least know how to wield it?

Nothing deadly is unknown to me.

It was agreed, I believe,
that a large sum of money

would be needed to seal our pact?

My Lords...

Sir.

If by chance, the inspector
becomes too pressing...

It'll cost you a few more pennies.

But it will be done,
you can be sure of that.

Gentlemen.

How much can we trust him?

As much trust
as we can legitimately accord

to one of my finest experts.

That's good, Chambonas...

That's good.

That's very good.

Your unusual project pleases me,
in that it serves my interests.

However, I would prefer

to not be in any way associated
with your sinister schemes.

Now go, my friend.

Go!

Come on! Stop playing around!

I know you're here!

What's the meaning
behind this get-up, my dear?

What are you doing?

Have you lost your mind?

The King is dead,
the young King has no confidence,

and Sartine has left
for the Naval Ministry.

Now you're alone and exposed.

No, we are alone and exposed.

You're hanging to me
like I'm hanging on to Sartine.

The new King, Louis XVI...

Sir, if you'd kindly follow me,

Mr Le Noir is waiting.

Sir.

My predecessor, Mr Sartine,
recommended you.

I have seen for myself,

not long ago, your mastery
in numerous delicate affairs.

However,

you cannot be as close to me
as you were with Mr Sartine.

I intend to renew the rules

and subject our methods
to new guidelines

which are more in line
with my way of doing things.

Do you want me to repeat anything?

I serve the King, my Lord.

Just like his grandfather,
to whom he was very loyal,

the King appreciates you, as we know,

but everyone must follow
the same rules.

Longer-serving officers

might be offended
that someone their junior

continued to freely monopolise
attention and favour,

just as they pleased.

The multiple complaints
and grievances

regarding you
have already reached me.

You could heed, sir,
the voice of reason.

Take it easy!

Rest up a little!

Go hunting!

Wait for a better time to return,
who knows...

You may leave, sir.

Did you know that following
the departure of Lady Du Barry,

who has the Queen's sympathies,

Choiseul wants to return to Court,

and he's vying for the top spot?

That of the King's mentor,
held by Mr Maurepas.

With moderation, or undisguised?

Do you think Choiseul
is capable of moderation?

He'll fight tooth and nail for it,
and could very well succeed.

You haven't said a word, my lady.

It's just that, like everybody else,

I am contented to admire you.

Isn't it customary to say...

the more we admire the stars,

the more
we distance ourselves from them.

That's not my doing, my Lady.

It's no longer a question of time,
but of wanting to do it..

Allow me to take my leave.

Please excuse me.

If I were you, I wouldn't.

Well, you aren't.

My Lady!

My Lady, wait.

Don't wait for excuses from me,
nor regrets.

Madam, may I know
what I have done to merit this?

I could not love a Court lapdog.

You'll soon be fat and sated,
licking your master's hand.

I lick nothing nor nobody.

You need a younger mistress,
more becoming than I.

I alone am the judge of that.

Nicolas...

would you do me one last favour?

Leave, quickly,

before my courage fails me.

Let's go.

Should we fetch your horse, Marquis?

To go after her carriage?
Are you mocking me?

Not at all, sir, I was only asking...

This doesn't concern you at all!

- My apologies, sir...
- Shut up!

- Nicolas!
- Here I am.

Sleep has eluded me.

You've received immediate summons.

The dawn was...

..ugly, this morning.

Two officers are waiting in the hall,

and a large troop of armed guards
in the yard,

acting as your escort.

Perhaps you should be kept
under his Majesty's protection.

I am grateful to you, Marquis...

for not wasting a minute
in coming here.

It's quite hard to escape

while surrounded
by a troop of guards.

I think my instructions
have been exceeded.

Don't think I've changed
my mind about you, Mr Le Floch.

I have just been charged

to invite you to present yourself...

as of now,
at Saint-Florentin House.

The Count of Saint-Florentin,

the Duke of Vrillière,
Minister to the King's Household,

has asked to see you in person.

Why?

He didn't see fit to inform me.

Rest assured, if it were my choice,
I'd have sent somebody else.

Alas, the Count of Saint-Florentin

takes after Mr Maurepas,

who himself takes after the King,
whom he mentors.

So, I haven't been left
with much of a choice,

rather, no choice at all.

Go.

Keep me informed of anything

that might interest
the Royal Services.

Sir, I have always held you
in high regard.

I understand
you have been lead to believe

that recently,
my trust in you has been lacking.

I've believed it so much
that I'm convinced of it, my Lord.

However, I am without argument
to explain it.

But others have had
charges brought against them,

and I'm being made to feel pressured.

Le Noir, correct?

He suspects things, that's all.

A word from me will set him straight.

We do have further need
of your services.

Mr Sartine has convinced me of this.

Today...

I need you.

On your orders, my Lord.

I was at Versailles.

I returned home in the early hours
to find it turned upside-down.

To be frank...

one of my wife's chambermaids
has been killed.

The maître d'hôtel
was found injured and unconscious,

with a large knife at his side.

This leads us to believe
he killed the girl,

then as a punishment,
he tried to kill himself.

What do you want of me, my Lord?

I want you to investigate, Marquis.

I am an important person, of course,

but my position is fragile.

My reputation is villainous.

The gossip going around about me,

in the eyes of the young Queen,

has done me a great disservice.

The King, as usual,

is sticking by his own opinion.

I know the rumours, sir,

but take them for what they are,
garbage.

Investigate.

Investigate.

And what about
the Police Lieutenant General?

Le Noir?

I'll deal with it,

but with the highest discretion.

You can use the study
on the mezzanine.

Provence,
who has served me for 20 years,

will act as your guide
in these matters.

Where was the maître d'hôtel found?

Sprawled on his back,

here, injured,
not far from the poor girl.

And the knife?

Held in his hand, covered in blood.

As soon as I got your message,
I rushed over here.

Is this a big case?

Not only
because of how the victim died,

but also because of the place, yes.

The crime scene
has been trampled over.

The footprints here are convoluted,

I doubt we'll get very much.

But on the other hand...

the wound to the victim's throat...

I'll let you be the judge.

What abominable monster
could have done this?

You will do
a full search of the house,

then you will listen
to all the domestic staff.

- I want a full, precise geography.
- Yes, sir.

You will have the body taken
discreetly to the morgue.

And ask Sanson
to make a cast of the throat.

Yes, sir.

Gentlemen...

I was summoned
to make records of this mess.

The young woman
had no need of my expertise,

this one, however...

He was fortunate that
the blade passed over a rib

without seriously damaging
the internal organs.

I believe he will come to.

He hasn't come to yet?

No.

- Not since you found him?
- No.

That intrigues me.

The wound wouldn't have caused this.

I fear there's something else.

Show me the wound.

You'll notice
the bleeding has stopped

and the wound is clean,

probably caused by this robust knife,

borrowed from a butcher's.

Do you have any reason to conclude

that the man tried to commit suicide?

Until we have more information,

and although
we have no proof of this,

we can stick to that hypothesis.

He's breathing heavily.

Get up close, smell his breath.

Pungent and lingering...

This could lead
to some embarrassment,

but I cannot assume anything about it

Make sure to inform me

as soon as your patient
regains consciousness.

One of my men will soon be here
to assure he speaks with no-one.

If he wakes,
say nothing of the murder.

Well, as you put it,

the traces of blood
left around the victim

are unclear.

What is her name?

Pindron. Marguerite Pindron.

Carry on.

The nature of the wound,
on the throat,

also seems unclear.

But we'll see
what our friend Sanson thinks.

There are two things.

Firstly, the victim's attire
leads us to believe that

she was expecting
a romantic encounter.

Secondly, by widening
the scope of my research,

I found a few nice traces
of dried blood footprints,

but this blood
should have been very fresh,

and these footprints are stepping awa
from the crime scene.

- Madam...
- Sir.

I've been told that you're the one

investigating the death
of that loose woman?

Can you tell us to whom
we have the honour of speaking?

I am the Duchess de la Vrillière,

the wife
of the Count of Saint-Florentin.

And you are in my home!

It was common knowledge that
Jean Missery, our maître d'hôtel,

was seeking carnal pleasures
with that girl.

Marguerite Pindron
was part of your entourage,

as a chambermaid?

Entourage?

You must be joking!

She was part of my house staff,

of a lowly rank at that.

I don't know how she got in,

it was quite recently actually,
and without my consent!

Having surprised her
during his rounds,

while that girl was readying
for their nightly debaucheries,

in a fit of jealousy,

the maître d'hôtel put an end
to the girl's existence

before trying to kill himself.

I have heard this one before,
told by your husband.

It is quite convenient,
I do not deny that.

Do you suspect me, sir?

When and how
did you learn about the crime?

At 6 am...

when my head chambermaid
came to wake me.

Her name?

Eugénie Gouet.

Am I right in saying
you knew Miss Pindron intimately?

- Intimately?
- Yes! Intimately!

What do you want from me?

Am I right in saying

it was on his recommendation
that she was hired to this house?

Yes, but why, sir?

Did you have any authority
over the young lady?

The same amount
as all the house staff,

within the remit of my position.

What do you want?

I want you to answer me!

What did you do last night?

Last night, after my rounds...

I retired to this room,
and went to bed, like every night.

- Alone?
- Yes, that's right.

Since my wife's death, I live alone.

Did you know
Marguerite Pindron had a lover?

- How should I know?
- Everyone knows!

- Sir, please...
- Sit down!

You knew this
and it broke your heart.

We found you, unconscious,

with a knife in your hand,

next to the lifeless body
of your mistress.

She's dead?

You are accused of the crime
of having murdered her...

and also the crime
of trying to take your own life.

You will be sent to Châtelet
and then incarcerated there.

I'm innocent, sir.

Innocent of what!

Do you remember anything
that proves this?

No.

No!

What can you tell me
about the Duchess' chambermaid?

Which chambermaid?

The Gouet lady.

Ah, Nicolas.

Madam Gouet has just given us
a verbal declaration...

Verbal?

Yes, according to her,

Marguerite Pindron
was Jean Missery's mistress.

They're aren't just claims.

Inquire for yourselves.

He had become the laughing stock
of the entire household.

He didn't deserve that,

he, who could have once...

He could have once, what, Madam?

- I know him...
- Well, that's good.

Could he have killed himself?

Even though he's not lacking in charm

he's a brutal man, hot-headed,

prone to angry outbursts
and irrational acts.

He does everything to excess.

Like his affections towards you?

Affections?

Jean Missery is no man of affection.

He takes, he consumes,
and once bored, he's done.

Poor Pindron thought
she was toying with him...

but it was him
who was toying with her.

It looks most likely that
the maître d'hôtel is guilty.

For the time being, let's pretend
we stick to the version of events

that everybody is telling us
in total agreement...

Let's wait for the body
to be opened up

so we can finely attune
our inquiries.

Have you heard word from Sanson?

We're meeting him tomorrow
in the prison morgue at 6 am.

6 am?

That's the most discreet time.

For the time of death,

taking into account
the advanced rigor mortis,

and considering the room
she was found in was very cold,

we can place it
between 10 pm and midnight.

And the causes of death?

She perished from a mortal wound
to the front of her throat.

This unique wound opened up
the subclavian vessels

of the larger branches
of the axial artery.

We were right to conclude
immediate death from blood loss.

This case is without precedent.

It's like her throat was ripped out.

And the weapon?

We're dealing with robust pincers,
which have malleable jaws.

- Not a knife wound?
- No, nor any other sharp object.

Did you create the cast
I previously asked you for?

I'm working on it.

The clothes tell us a lot,
these top quality shoes,

this petticoat, these leggings...

This woman was being courted.

Our physical observations
show her body type was similar

to those of lower-class girls
who line up to sell themselves.

Then, there was
this contraceptive sponge,

found in her "private areas".

This at least proves your victim
was waiting for some suitor.

Nicolas, let's wager
that when we find this suitor,

the guilty party won't be far off.

The Lieutenant-General
wants to see you immediately.

What do you want, sir?

Please, don't play this game with me.

Give me your report.

A girl dead,
her throat horribly torn to shreds.

A man found injured next to her,
unconscious, with a knife in hand.

What are you inferring?

I infer nothing,
I'm just stating the facts.

A crime, you say.

In the very heart
of Saint-Florentin House.

I now better understand

the Minister's haste
to personally send for you.

On the contrary,
I don't understand at all.

Any officer could have acted
as a candle-snuffer.

Any specific instructions?

None, now carry on, carry on.

This could become
complicated or perilous

if by chance this is any way
involved the minister...

Carry on, that's an order.

I hereby grant you full powers,
which you've already exercised,

at your own risk, of course.

And please, change your clothes.

As for Missery,
our preliminary findings show

that while he's no big shot,
he's no small-fry either.

He worked with the Duchamplans.

He married one of the sisters,
died in labour.

I know even less
about who the Duchamplans are.

A bourgeois family
who look only for gain

and furthering their social standing.

Only three of them are now left.

- May I?
- Go ahead.

Excuse me...

The eldest Duchamplan
owns a cab company.

He works at Bicêtre Hospital

and he's also eyeing up
the city's water services,

together with Mr de Conti.

Conti...

The second, Louise de l'Annonciation,

is the Mother Superior
of the Saint-Michel Girls Home.

As for the third thief,
Eudes Duchamplan,

he's known for committing
a few infractions

common to those young people
who lavishly spend gold

which isn't theirs,
if you know what I mean.

Commissioner!

The Police Lieutenant-General
wants to see you now.

- But I just saw him...
- No, the other one, the real one.

Mr de Sartine!

I know everything...

Mr Marquis of Ranreuil...

concerning
the escapades and depravities

in the house
of the Count of Saint-Florentin.

The man is notoriously dissolute...

But he's the King's minister,

making him the state's
third most powerful man.

Could we imagine,
whatever title he may hold,

that he could be incriminated
in the goings-on at his home?

We could imagine anything, sir.

Such rigidity, Nicolas.

It's like we've never met before.

It's just that,
you're no longer my superior.

As I carry out my functions,
I owe the new Lieutenant-General

the same loyalty that I owed you.

That's one point to you.

I need to speak frankly with you.

For the young King,
the time is right for a change.

Yet many ministers are in place

who pose as obstacles
and who should be removed.

Including Mr Saint-Florentin?

You deduce, as ever,
quickly and correctly.

The future is uncertain.

The young King does not seem
fully qualified

to protect the dynasty
from coming agitations.

He needs a real mentor.

Only one person has the necessary
qualities, and that's Mr de Choiseul.

The young King does not like him.

Quite right.

Make no mistake.

All those
who bring down Saint-Florentin

will serve
to bring about Choiseul's return.

I'm counting on your former loyalty

in order to keep me informed,
if not of the small details,

but of the bigger picture
of your investigation.

One thing, however.

Despite what he says,

I can tell you that
the Count of Saint-Florentin

was not at Versailles, but in Paris.

He lied to you about that.

I'll let you judge the rest.

Good day, sir.

So, does Mr de Sartine
intend to lead the way for us?

Yes, I'm as surprised as you are.

This brings us full-circle
to Saint-Florentin House.

Yes.

I am a Police Commissioner
from Châtelet

and I want to be received

by Mother Louise de l'Annonciation,
right away.

While I listen
to the Mother Superior,

go speak with all the nuns
who wish to talk.

We'll then compare

what the top says
against what the bottom says.

Yes, sir.

No messing around, Bourdeau.

Good day, Sister.

I'm listening, my son.

Have you heard news
of your brother-in-law,

Jean Missery?

None, and I'm not looking for any.

I always disapproved of their union.

My sister didn't want to listen,
she married Missery,

and now she's dead.

What do you mean by that?

The Lord did not want
to bless their union.

Their stillborn child
killed my sister.

Mother Superior,

Jean Missery seems to have killed
a certain Marguerite Pindron.

A whore.

A street girl.

After he abused her,
he would sell her for himself.

You seem to know quite a lot
about Saint-Florentin House.

The Duchess de la Vrillière,
the Countess of Saint-Florentin,

is the benefactress of this home.

Without her help, what could we do
for these poor girls?

Just like Saint-Florentin House,

the house of God
is also a place of wrong-doings,

which they prattle
on about at great length.

More than the devil's influence,

we should observe their confinement
and other restrictions.

As for restrictions,

the Mother Superior seems
to be living the high life.

If we accept
she was found without shoes,

this girl strongly resembles
the previous one.

Her clothes are almost identical,
so we can suppose the same habits.

This one, however,
seems much younger and less "used".

Here's the cast
made from Marguerite Pindron.

It very closely matches
the throat of the second victim.

The same weapon.

And perhaps the same hand.

You don't know how right you are.

Intrigued by its shape,

I carried out a study
on the dimensions of the wound.

A hand, Nicolas.

Made from metal,
a hand possessing great strength,

an articulated hand.

A sort of armoured gauntlet.

The second death reminds us

of the murder of Marguerite Pindron.

It is identical in its cruelty,
yet different in scope.

Different in scope?

The crime scenes.

Saint-Florentin House
for the first girl,

and the second,
hitherto unknown to us,

found in the street.

And this handprint.

The silver hand the King gave
to the Count of Saint-Florentin.

Find it, bring it in for comparison,

then you'll know
beyond any shadow of a doubt.

I can't figure it out.

The enormity of this discovery
suffocates me.

The Count...

A man of his standing...

Everything must bow before

the implacable and abrupt
evidence of proof.

Leaving already?

The King wants to see me tomorrow
for an extremely important matter.

The King? Tomorrow?

Bloody hell, Nicolas,
you're a real high-flyer now!

Easy now.

Easy!

Easy, easy!

- What's going on?
- There's a body down there.

It seems lifeless.

Miss?

Miss!

Miss...

You seem confused,
what has happened to me?

I don't know,
the coach driver saw you.

Who should I be thanking, my saviour?

Nicolas Le Floch.

The little Marquis of Ranreuil!

Do not take offense, sir.

We have a friend in common,
Mr de la Borde.

He won't stop singing your praises!

His very young wife
is a close friend of mine.

You can put me down.

I only look thin, but I'm not.

I don't intend to tire you further,

in such a stupid way as well!

Aimée of Arranet, sir,
at your service.

Please, get in, Miss.

Go!

What were you looking for?

Mushrooms, chestnuts...

or a few handsome man,
fallen from the sky,

in a cut-price carriage!

Because of me, you've got all wet.

It was my pleasure.

Where can I take you?

I see my company isn't wanted.

It seems I've made you late.

That's just how I am.

Impertinent and playful by nature.

My father's house
isn't far from here.

It's on Avenue de Paris.

And what is your father's name?

The Count of Arranet,

and Admiral of the Navy.

To Avenue de Paris!

Well, Tribord, are you waiting
to tell my father...

Tell me what, Miss?

What could further shock me
with regards to you?

May I know who you are, sir?

- Nicolas Le...
- The Marquis of Ranreuil!

She's a unique girl, not yet a woman.

She has grace, spirit,

vivacity, even softness,

even if it can hardly be seen.

I once knew a Marquis of Ranreuil

who served in the King's Guard
at the battle of Fontenoy.

My father, my Lord.

I'm throwing a dinner tonight
in honour of my new minister.

It would be most agreeable
if you were to join us.

Don't even think of refusing.

The desserts here are exquisite!

You missed the arrival, Nicolas.

His Majesty is waiting for you
with great impatience.

Will you join us
on the hunt tomorrow?

No, your Majesty,
I have to go to Paris for a case.

The case
of the Count of Saint-Florentin?

Yes, your Majesty.

You're good, you'll solve it.

Sir...

There is something worse.

You have to clear my name.

Your Majesty knows my loyalty.
How may I serve you?

From time to time,
from atop the gazebo...

I shoot at the cats
which litter our roofs.

They trouble us at night.

Alas...

I killed one cat

that is surely the Turkish Angora
belonging to Lady Maurepas.

Lady Maurepas! Do you see now?

Yes, I quite understand.

What would you advise, Marquis?

If his Majesty permitted me
to speak on his behalf,

I could act as his ambassador

and go "over the top"
in order to take the first barrage.

And once the gunfire has ceased,
how will you proceed?

That the accident
was in no way voluntary,

the King
was merely shooting pigeons...

and a cat happened to pass by...

That's it! That's exactly it!

A cat happened to pass by!

I'll have to leave you, Nicolas,

the moment you fire the first shot.

Approach us, sir.

A clear look in his eyes,
a sturdy build,

a good swordsman too, it seems.

Well, sir,
what warrants us your presence?

- My Lady, his Majesty...
- His Majesty, what, Marquis?

I won't beat around the bush.

The King feels so bad for your cat,
he dare not speak to you.

He desperately wants you
to know the truth.

I swear on my honour
to have advised him

to say he missed a pigeon...

An errant pigeon?
That's a good one, Marquis!

As if I didn't know!

The King doesn't need my pardon,
I'm his servant.

He's a good boy,

and you are too.

They say Saint-Florentin
is involved in a ghastly affair.

News travels quickly, my Lady.

Bad news spread like an infection,

and the others are of no interest.

Do they claim that Saint-Florentin,
our brother-in-law, is a killer?

Yes, my Lady.

Don't believe a word, sir.

In his youth,
the Count was quite the libertine.

One of his less stupid escapades
would have been

his tumultuous liaison
with Madam de Cusacque,

better known by the name,
"The Fair Aglaé".

Have you ever met her?

- No, I have not.
- She possessed great beauty.

But believe me,

he would not spoil fresh meat.

He loves her too much for that.

I am sure you are telling the truth.

Keep an eye on Saint-Florentin.

He sorely needs it.

Your question seems answered.

It is, you can be sure of that.

No gunshots, no screaming,
you must have bewitched the lady!

You are an expert
in matters of exorcism, Nicolas.

What can you tell me
about a certain Aglaé de Cusacque?

Nothing but very banal details.

The Count of Saint-Florentin
was crazy for her,

even making her his mistress.

Out of their illegitimate union
was born a daughter,

whom the Count does not acknowledge.

That poor child
is the recently married wife

to a sinister breed of man.

Sir Scipion de la Garde,
the Marquis of Chambonas.

You don't seem
to hold him in high esteem.

An ambitious upstart,
very unpredictable,

he always provokes intrigue.

Can you imagine,
he named himself Grand Master

of a libertine society
called "The Order of Happiness".

My word!

This hermaphrodite society
practises gender swapping

and gender mixing,

and it intends to pave the way

for a new
and more enlightened humanity.

- Is that all they want?
- That's all, yes.

Let's change the subject.

I've just learned you too
are expected at Arranet House,

at one of the dinners
to which the Admiral is so partial.

Let's travel there together!

Don't expect to get by strong,

nor to leave before
the small hours of the morning.

The dishes are exquisite,
the beverages are remarkable.

- And the libations are plenty!
- Whoa!

Oh, sir...

You seem to have a very poorly arm.

Sir, leave this place!

Nicolas!

Assassinating one of my guests,
on my very doorstep!

In Versailles!

The man only wanted
the Marquis of Ranreuil.

Alas, the coach driver...

If only you saw
how I lashed that fellow!

The whip ran red with blood!

Be wary of scarred men now, Nicolas.

Sure.

You owe your life

to the hidden talents
of the Count de la Borde, Marquis.

As a child,
I aspired to be a coach driver!

The whip is a formidable weapon,

to which even
the most terrible animals yield.

- Tell your master I'm here.
- He's waiting for you, sir.

Please, sit down.

I'll just be a moment.

Well, what news do you have for me?

As of now,
you're on our list of suspects.

I beg your pardon?

Could you show me your left hand?

Provence, stop!

- Where's the other one?
- What other one?

The silver hand
the late King gave you!

I know nothing!

Misplaced, perhaps, lost, surely.
Forgotten!

Such a present
is neither misplaced nor forgotten!

It's in your interests
to tell me where the hand is!

You go too far!

My interests are telling me

to have you immediately discharged
from this case!

I have a warrant
granting me full judicial powers,

allowing me to act
until the truth is uncovered.

Le Noir, of course.

That chap doesn't like me at all.

And the young King,
do you know what he thinks of this?

He's urging me to solve this.

His Lordship must at least remember
the place where he lost the hand?

At the home of Lady de Cusacque.

In Normandy.

Aglaé de Cusacque.

Isn't she the mother
of your estranged daughter?

These out-dated curtains,
this mismatched furniture,

these bare walls,
lacking in paintings...

Everything else,
emitting an antique splendour.

You didn't know me in my glory days.

Are you a Marquis, sir?

I'm also a police officer, my Lady.

I am aware of that...

What warrants this visit
to my sad and dreary retirement?

The silver hand given to you
by the Count of Saint-Florentin.

Saint-Florentin?

Saint-Florentin?

It is to him that I owe
my disgrace, my exile, my ruin,

and the loss of my hopes and dreams.

He had promised me
mountaintops and miracles.

Honour, fortune, and a bright future.

And even his hand.

His hand of flesh and bone.

And he wouldn't dream of,
nor did he want,

to get rid of that vile harpy
who ate away at him.

Now, thanks to his misconduct,

which I no longer profit from,
I'm not allowed...

Madam.

Would you have any idea
as to the whereabouts of the hand?

Is this an important case?

It is, my Lady.

That hand...

Does it still elude you?

Yes, my Lady.

The Count of Saint-Florentin
claims to have left it with you.

Saint-Florentin is a liar,
who can go to hell.

It has been a long time

since he enjoyed my company.

Then do you confirm
to not have it in your possession?

My tastes do not favour
that sort of object.

Did you not also come here
to lead yourself astray, Marquis?

You seem to have rode
for a long time, and vigorously.

Who would chastise you
for a moment's abandon?

Nobody, my Lady.

Nobody.

That young Marquis,
he's a handsome thing.

As for you, I don't know...

but as for me,
I'd make him one of my regulars.

Chambonas,
the scandal is soon to erupt.

Couldn't we consider
moving things along?

We're working on it.

We're working on it.

The Lady closely resembles
the picture others paint of her.

And the Count,
like any good politician,

has a knack
for mixing truth and lies.

Maybe they tried to kill you

for something
you've yet to find out...

which, however, is quite clear.

Send for our friend Sanson, Bordeau.

Put their legs in first.

We'll make sure
they're strapped into the frames.

Once we've separated
the knee from the kneecap

and the feet from the ankles

with two solid planks,
we insert two wedges.

Wooden wedges for the women,
and iron wedges for the men.

It would be best
not to spare the mallet.

Why such cruelty, sir?

I am injured.

Right now, you're injured.

Soon, you'll be crippled.

Yes, this questioning
has consequences we cannot remedy,

but this doesn't much concern us.

I know nothing,
I can't tell you anything.

Well...

Who's going first, Nicolas?

The injured man.

No! No!

No! No!

- No!
- Stop, Commissioner!

Missery is telling the truth!

How can you corroborate this?

Long before he was Pindron's lover,
he was mine.

He still had some affection for me.

Mercy! Have mercy!

Carry on, please.

That night, he took me to his room,

after failing to
"rise to the occasion",

which I attributed
to his business with Pindron.

Under the pretext
of giving him some aphrodisiacs,

out of spite, I had him ingest

the powerful sleeping medicine
the Duchess often uses.

He fell unconscious
almost immediately.

In his room? Fully dressed?

That smell which fouled his breath,

that odd drowsiness.

It seems very likely.

It all fits.

If Pindron wasn't meeting him,
then who was it?

You know, don't you?

Mercy!

Mercy! Don't tell!
They'll kill us both!

If you don't talk,
you'll both be dead!

Who is he?

His name is Eudes Duchamplan.

He is Jean Missery's brother-in-law
and partner-in-crime.

No swindle, vice nor perversion
is unknown to him.

Eudes Duchamplan?

And where could we find this man,
Madam?

Commissioner.

I order you to stop
this interrogation at once!

This shouldn't be,
it's against all the rules,

which, under my authority,
will not be broken by anybody!

Release this poor soul at once,

as well as this women
and your other unlucky victim.

As for you...

How should I deal with your attitude?

You break all the rules
and insult our laws!

Sir, f I had used
the device in question,

it's because
it wouldn't have helped me!

That being said,

your sudden interruption
to a place you barely frequent

leads me to believe
you were warned, by whom, sir?

You go too far!

I'm guessing
the Count of Saint-Florentin

or his wife,
the Duchess de la Vrillière,

who have cause to hinder my case.

That's enough!

You've crossed the line!

What you say
doesn't surprise me in the least.

From the start,
you've only ever acted

to dismiss me
and put me off the scent,

devoted in your disdain.

- You forget yourself...
- I'm telling the truth!

If you want to take me
off the case, say so.

If you want me to quit the police,
say so!

Le Floch will leave then!

The Marquis of Ranreuil
will go hunt for deer!

Good day, sir!

The King told me
he was counting on me to finish.

When he asks me about the inquiry,

I'll tell him he can no longer,
because of your orders,

rely on his commission
for extraordinary affairs.

- Good day, sir!
- Le Floch!

You are truly an honest man!

Perhaps a bit brutal,
but enough of that!

Who else would dare
talk to me like you just did?

With such arrogance!

Did you ever dare cross
my predecessor?

Yes, in fact.

He earned the right
to a few choice words as well.

Lieutenant-General,
time is against us.

Because of you, the chase has begun,

and our quarry has been forewarned.

Rest assured,
I will keep you informed.

Good day, sir.

That was a bold move, Nicolas,
the chap could have gone to ground.

Yes, but as petulant
and shady as he is,

the chap is not lacking
in common sense.

We resume duties, don't we?

We do, yes.

- And our decoys?
- I anticipated this...

Before letting them get far,
I kept them on a short leash.

Rabouine's men are on their trial.

Perfect.

We know that the valet,

Provence, has returned
to Saint-Florentin House.

As for the other two,
Lady Gouet and Sir Missery,

they seem to have left together,
arm in arm, supporting each other,

to a destination
we should hasten to discover.

It also seems
they want to talk to you.

Come here...

Much like your world, Commissioner,

the world of gallantry
has its own rules and customs.

We detest and warn against
certain deviations.

What kinds of deviations, my Lady?

You won't see
any useless compassion here.

The girls are, shall we say,
the base of our business.

If they go missing or are damaged,
we're in trouble.

Come.

In certain circles,
people are committing

cruel practices
that we would not tolerate.

Vice seeking help
against other vices?

That's intriguing.

Could you tell me the catch?

Not long ago,
a dandy came into my house,

making no secret
of his means or his friends.

Warned about him
by the girls who knew his abuses,

he was soon ejected.

What was his name?

- His name was Eudes Duchamplan.
- I see.

He's equal parts man and woman,

who throws gold about
like others sow discord.

He's just like
the Marquis of Chambonas.

Our officers are no match for yours.

I don't take this lightly, sir.

The man you're looking for
is a monster.

Yes?

Sir!

You've changed your mind?

Not at all, sir!

The birds
might have returned to the nest.

- Miss?
- Sir.

Are you mad?
These streets are not safe.

I've nothing to fear,
you're in the police.

What are you doing in Paris?

I don't have to tell you!

We're not married,
and even if we were, would I have to?

It was a pleasure to see you again.

No offense, Nicolas, no offense.

That affair doesn't seem
overly unpleasant.

The maître d'hôtel and the woman

went into the house
you see in front of you.

They haven't come back out.

Perfect, Rabouine, perfect.

Get back.

Does this mean you do like me,
Nicolas?

Shut up!

Man or woman, there are clothes
for an entire regiment.

Or even a brothel.

The woman will have been taken
God knows where...

To the Marquis of Chambonas,
at his house in Montparnasse.

Yes, but he is well protected.

Jean Missery has been murdered.

The Duchess' personal aide,

Eugénie Gouet, has been taken.

I can assure you,

this is a plot
that looks to act against you.

Your downfall could be imminent.

Who took her?

Your son-in-law, of sorts.

Your illegitimate son-in-law.

What can you tell me
about the Marquis of Chambonas?

You need to stay away from him.

That man is most poisonous.

He has killers in his employ,
keep your distance.

His protections are as hidden
as they are indeed formidable.

I am innocent of everything,

Commissioner.

I lack your hand
to fully prove your innocence.

Obviously, that silver hand
follows me with special cruelty.

Failing this proof,
I'd be happy to know one thing...

I'm listening, sir.

One word would be enough
to exonerate you in my eyes

and those
of the King's judicial courts.

All it would take is for you
to clearly answer this question,

my Lord.

Where were you at the time
of the death of Marguerite Pindron?

Must I pay the price of my silence
a hundredfold?

Nothing will ever make me reveal

what I want to keep to myself.

Leave me.

In this instance,
I even doubt Mr Sartine's position.

He hinted to me that
he was supporting Choiseul,

and all those who share the opinion
of getting rid of Saint-Florentin

would be met with his approval.

This girl goes by the name
of "La Roussillon".

She wants to enter
into the King's service.

That wouldn't seem
to pose too much of a problem.

What's more, her conscience
is increasingly troubled

by the goings-on
in certain circles...

Well, it's not her conscience
that's troubled then!

Come, sit down.

Talk.

Two of my sisters disappeared

after some filthy animal
invited them to one of his parties.

What filthy animal would this be?

He goes by the name of Scipion.

Scipion again!
The Marquis of Chambonas!

Where are these parties?

At private homes, hidden places,

or at the docks,
in the underground warehouses.

Never in the same place.

They say they kill the poor girls

who've reached the age
when nobody will look for them.

Do you know
when the next party will be?

This evening, after midnight.

Here's your pass, sir.

A half of the Queen of Hearts,
stolen from a party-goer,

who has been knocked out.

Is everything in place?

My men and yours
have surrounded the building.

They can certainly get in,
but not get out.

Right now, take care, sir.

Give up, Nicolas, this is folly.

That's enough, my friend.

We could cordon off this place,
and at least gather evidence

of the debauchery
and the kidnappings...

That's enough! I want that hand!

Welcome, make yourself comfortable.

Good evening, handsome...

This way, sir!

Why don't you show me your talents!

The man you're after
is in the room next door.

He's in gallant company,
with some sort of street walker.

- Is he alone?
- No.

He's with a man whose eyes
freeze your very blood.

Well, it's time for me
to get into character

and act with convincing enthusiasm,
so that your plan might succeed.

Hear them next door?
They're really going at it!

That girl is neither lacking
in lungs nor impetuosity!

Damn!

That whore's screaming
is getting me all worked up...

This one is begging to be tortured,
she deserves it for blabbing.

She is begging for it,

but perhaps she doesn't understand
how we'll do it.

Please, sir, let's skip to the end.

I have to agree with you though...

all the begging,

the cries and contortions
of the victims,

not to mention
the energy required to do it,

you end up getting bored,

and even disgusted,
with any kind of foreplay!

Get back!

You only have one shot.

You'd best not miss.

Don't move, Chambonas!

Over there! Now!

Nobody gets out, understand?

Shoot then, but do it properly.

Make sure you kill
either one or the other.

Nicolas!

Nicolas!

Nicolas!

Look over there!

Bring in the accused.

Yes, sir.

When he was caught on the way out,
with his hand, so to say,

the Marquis of Chambonas
didn't hesitate to confess.

That said, being found with an object

used to commit vile crimes,
he feared...

That it could be wrongly inferred
that I was involved in this!

Bloody hell!

Involved? You? How could that be?

How could that be, indeed!

I hate to ask the question,

however,
the exception proves the rule.

Commissioner Le Floch,
wouldn't it be best if Scipion,

who I believe
is ill disposed to tell the truth,

were to undergo some "questioning"?

Not necessary, sir, not necessary!

I am abject and vile,
but not at all stupid or brave.

Bring me a chair, anything,
and I'll tell you everything.

As you suspected, Commissioner,

Eudes Duchamplan
is the sole assassin.

I fear at this point
it cannot be denied.

Eudes Duchamplan is dead,
at the bottom of the river Seine.

- What were his motives?
- Who could say.

You couldn't tell
what that man was thinking.

You didn't answer me,
so "the question" still stands.

Sir? Come now, gentlemen!

It was simply out of revenge,
on the part of Aglaé de Cusacque,

to compromise
the Count of Saint-Florentin.

This makes you the accomplice
to at least two murders, Marquis.

But, sir!

I was just doing as I was told!

Here, "doing as you're told"
carries the crime of complicity.

Come now! Talk, Chambonas!

This is now becoming
a political affair.

What happens at a state level
can only be heard by certain ears.

Please stay, Inspector.

It will be your duty
to take a verbal account.

Verbal account?

Are you sure about that?

Certain, sir.

Come on!

Two different minds came together

and they were soon united
in a common cause.

My accomplice is a noble
of very high standing.

A small man,

who puts on a reasonable disguise,

with a rare, red head of hair.

His movements are twitchy,

and he has a raspy voice.

Do you really wish to know his name?

You knew, didn't you?

I knew, I knew.

Not all the details,

but the bigger picture
did not go unnoticed.

So, a murder attempt against me
was merely a detail?

An attempt that you escaped!

Take a seat, Commissioner!

Please.

So, eventually,
our dear Chambonas did talk.

At his leisure, yes.

You knew.

And you didn't warn me at all.

Madam de Cusacque's revenge
well suited our plans.

We just had to let events unfold.

Take care not to ignore

the formidable effects of sex

when you mix power with money.

With the Count compromised
by a significant scandal,

of which the crime
at Saint-Florentin House

was but the first in a long line
of clearly shameful murders,

the Count, with his resolve shaking,

who would soon be beaten...

A royal path would open up
for your champion,

Mr de Choiseul.

What about your role in all this?

Enough with that sarcastic tone,
Nicolas.

Only Choiseul has the courage,
the intelligence, the endurance,

and a vision for the state...

to drive forward reforms
for the monarchy's survival!

Choiseul is the only line of defence

that the King has
against the growing perils!

Unaware of the stakes,

you have accomplished your task.

Shame.

Or rather, alas.

You can leave.

Sir, I am most satisfied
with your report,

not in what it contains,
which doesn't shock me at all...

but in its precision
and the speed it was brought to me,

I see the best in our police force.

- Your Majesty.
- Sir.

Some of your hair has fallen out.

Perhaps it would be best
to return to Chanteloup

and to stay there.

Your Majesty.

The Count has gone out, Commissioner.

- Did you want to see him?
- Not at all, Madam.

I just wanted to return this to him.

Thank you for rescuing my husband.

I know all his shortcomings,

as I know the best of him.

I owe you the truth, Commissioner.

Having known about the crime...

I used the maître d'hôtel
as a smokescreen.

I had understood that, Madam.

I...

I take it that you're
a man capable of keeping a secret?

Do you know
where my husband is right now?

Would you like to know?

Did you know that
the Marquis of Chambonas

has been relegated to his land
by order of the King,

and he is never to return
to the Court nor the city?

Is that all?

When will the law
be applicable to everyone?

One day, perhaps.

When your family rule the country!

Come in.

Sir?

Madam.

I'm a police commissioner.

All I want is information
concerning the man

who has just left your home.

Has something happened to him?

No, no, calm yourself.

Does he often visit you?

Every evening.

- Every evening?
- Yes.

- Without fail?
- Yes.

And this man,

what does he do,
and what is his name?

His name is Charles Gobelet,
he works at Châtelet.

- Charles Gobelet?
- Yes.

And how do you know him?

He's my friend.

He gives us
so much love and attention,

you would find it touching.

This is our child.

There's no need to make a big deal...

out of my visit to your friend.

It'll be like a little secret
between us both.

Thank you, sir.

Madam.

Why hide from the world
such a sweet and happy pairing?

He has children from a first marriage

who wouldn't accept
learning about this.

He takes so many precautions,
it's like he feels threatened.

No, it's not that.

Madam.

Sir.

Well?

Sorry, I can't tell you anything.

I don't know
where a man's truth lies.

Whether it's in his disorder

or his garden of innocence,
preserved from sin.

Go!

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