All language subtitles for The.Agatha.Christie.Hour.S01E05.The.Case.of.the.Discontented.Soldier.WEB-DL.DDP2.0.H.264-squalor1

- Yes.

Thank you, good morning.

Come on, Wally.

- Morning, Major.

- Morning.

- Nothin' for you, as per usual.

Perhaps next week, eh?

- Quite.

Morning, Major.

- Oh, blazes!

- I wonder whether I could
have a word with you?

- Uh, sorry, Vicar,
bit of a hurry.

Enemy diverted.

Look out, heavy artillery.

Come on.

Made it back to HQ.

That's a bit rum.

Listen to this, Wally.

Personal column, understood?

Are you happy?

If not, consult Mr. Parker
Pyne, 17 Richmond Street.

What do you make
of that, old chap?

Quite right.

Ridiculous.

Morning, Wilbraham.

- Ah yes, good morning,
Major Wilbraham.

Morning.

- May I take your coat?

- Uh, absolutely.

I telephoned for an appointment.

- Of course, Major Wilbraham.

Mr. Parker Pyne
is expecting you.

Thank you.

Major
Wilbraham, sir.

- Ah.

Good morning, Major.

- Morning.

- Good morning.

Come in, please.

Thank you.

- Coffee, Major?

- Thank you.

- Black or white?

- Uh, black.

- Pent Cottage,
Bricking Lane, Cobham.

That sounds charming.

- Yes, charming spot.

- And does the vine round
the thatched eaves run?

- Uh, sort of thing,
wisteria, actually.

- Ah.

Thank you.

- Sugar?

- Uh, thank you.

- And is there a good lady?

- Bachelor.

- Ah.

Thank you, Miss Lemon.

Please sit down.

Correct me if I'm wrong,

but I'd say that you were a man

recently returned from abroad.

- Yes, that's right.

India or Africa?

- East Africa, Kenya.

- A fine country, I believe.

And now here you are,

and you're not happy being
back home again, is that it?

- That's very shrewd of
you, Mr. Parker Pyne.

You're absolutely right.

Though how you know that--

- No, it's my business to know.

You see, for 35
years of my Iife,

I've been engaged in the
compiling of statistics

in a government office.

35 years, Major Wilbraham.

Now I'm retired, and
it has occurred to me

to use the experience I've
gained in this novel fashion.

You see, unhappiness
can be classified

under five main headings,
no more, I assure you.

- You make it sound so simple.

- Well, life is simple,
Major Wilbraham,

if people will only allow
it to be.

Now, may I ask
why you came back?

I mean, you're obviously
not a man who's retired.

You're still in your prime.

I hope you don't think
I'm being impertinent?

No, not at all, it's a
fair question, quite fair.

No, I don't mind
telling you, not at all.

- Yes, yes, that's it exactly.

And we need you here straight
away if you wouldn't mind.

Yes.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

- You see, the army's
given me a dam good life.

I've seen a bit of action,
traveled, of course,

companionship,
freedom, and Kenya.

That was the best
posting of all.

Regiment was there
for six years all.

Do you know, they
actually have a pack

of hounds in the White Islands?

It's only drag
hunting, of course,

but it makes a damp
February in the shires

seem pretty silly.

Anyway, when the regiment
was due to come back,

I gave very serious
thought to staying on.

But it's, uh, well,
it's difficult, really.

- Yes, it would've been
the life of an exile.

- That's it, absolutely.

And, you know, there
are some splendid

women out there, but--

- No one you found you could um.

- Absolutely.

No, I just felt, you see,
that England was my home

and I should return
to it, settle down,

make a go of it here.

So I came back and
resigned my commission.

- Really, why did you do that?

- Well, there's no real
soldiering any more

when you face it
fair and square.

Now, I just felt I should
make a break, start afresh.

And now.

- Now you're restless?

- That's putting it mildly.

- Well, I doubt it's much
consolation, Major Wilbraham,

but your situation
is far from unique.

Would you, uh?

- No, no, no.

- You see, a retired empire
builder, whoever he is,

exchanges an active life
full of responsibility,

a life of possible
danger, for what?

Strained beans, dismal climate,

and the feeling being
a fish out of water.

- That's it, absolutely!

All my neighbors are pleasant
folk, but they've got

very few ideas beyond
the parish pump.

I've got a little money,

but I can't afford
to hunt or shoot.

- The long and the
short is that you're

bored and you find life tame.

- Damned tame.

- Well, having
diagnosed the malady,

the remedy shouldn't
be impossible.

- I hope you're right.

- You see, I stand in
the place of a doctor.

There are cases where no
treatment can be of any avail,

and, if this is so, I say
frankly that I can do nothing.

But, if I undertake a case,

the cure is
practically guaranteed.

- And so?

- And your case, I will
willingly undertake.

- Oh, jolly good.

And the cure?

- What you require is
excitement, possibly danger.

- That's it exactly, but
I'm not going to find it

in dear old England, am I?

- I beg to differ, Major.

There you're quite wrong.

No, so far you've
only seen the smiling

surface of English life,
where turnips are applauded

at village fetes and wisteria
grows round the cottage doors.

But you must realize
that there is another,

darker side, where
danger is commonplace.

If you wish, I can
show you that side.

- You know something, Mr.
Parker Pyne, I believe you can.

When I first came in,
first saw you, you know,

I'll admit I thought to myself,
there's a chap I can trust.

- I should warn you, however,

that there is an
element of danger.

- Your claims would look
pretty rum if there weren't.

- Exactly so.

- And your fee?

- My fee is 50 guineas,
payable in advance.

- Ah, that's rather uh--

- But I make it returnable.

If in six weeks' time,
you're still in the same

state of unhappiness, I
will refund you your money.

No cure, no fee.

- Fair enough, I agree.

I'll give you a check now.

- Thank you, Major.

Now, you will receive
certain instructions

from me in a day or so.

Be sure to carry them
out to the letter.

- Sir.

- Thank you, Major.

Oh, has Madeleine arrived?

- She has, sir.
- Ah.

Madeleine, my dear.

- Mr. Parker Pyne.

Come in.

Thank you.

- Madeleine, may I
introduced Major Wilbraham?

Miss Madeleine de Sara.

- Delighted.

How do you do?

- The Major is taking
you out to lunch.

Ah, how wonderful!

- Might I recommend Maroney's?

- Uh, certainly, splendid.

Miss Lemon.

- Your taxi will be
here at any moment.

- Ah, splendid.

- Ah! Your carriage awaits.

- Splendid.

Shall we, uh...

- Thank you.

- Miss uh?
- Miss de Sara.

Do enjoy your lunch.

Thank you.

- Hmm, a diffident man.

- But not without charm.

Anyway, I think I
know what's required.

- Oh, I'm sure you
do, Miss Lemon.

- He's obviously schedule C.

- Yes.

- And I'll wager you a
new typewriter ribbon

to a glass of sherry that
you'll need a type four.

- Type four?
- Hmm.

I'll
accept that wager

and await Madeleine's judgment.

Type four.

Oh, did you ring Maroney's?

- Of course!

- Bonjour, monsieur.

- Ah, yes, very well.

For two, I'm afraid
we haven't booked.

us not at all,

.

I believe I have just
the table for you.

If monsieur and mademoiselle
would care to follow?

- Absolutely.

- Mademoiselle.

Thank you.

- Ah, it's a very, um,
the sort of place, um...

You don't like it?

- Well, it's not really
a question of um...

- Oh, I like it occasionally.

It's somewhat faded,
don't you think,

but still quite stylish.

- Oh, it's stylish
definitely, though faded.

- But not an everyday place,
I quite agree with you.

One would become tired of it.

- Yes, I think that one uh...

- But for a special
occasion, it's splendid.

Mmm.

These are for us, you know.

- Yes, I gathered.

- May I?

- Of course, absolutely.

Oh.

I suppose that waiter
chap is French, is he?

- Hmm.

- I've heard that
most of these chaps

are from the East End and
have an ear for the lingo.

I like the French,
as a matter of fact,

just wish they'd
get out of the Ruhr.

- There.

Oh, you do look splendid.

- Good, splendid.

I mean, how can you
get war reparations

from a country that's
completely broke?

And you can't mess
around forever

with people like the
Germans, can you?

Quite.

Shall we, um?

Ah, English lamb cutlets, good.

How about you?

I shall have the potted
shrimps and the medallion.

- Right, fine, that sounds
like something from the Rhine

followed by something
from Burgundy.

That sounds like what

you were just talking about.

- What?

Oh, yeah.

Very good, yes.

- Tell me, was it
awful out in Africa?

- Uh, not really, no.

It's pretty good on the whole.

- Did you go on safari,
that sort of thing?

- Yes, I suppose I did, really.

- Must have been
pretty dangerous.

- Sort of, time to time.

- Did you see any tigers?

- Tigers are India.

No tigers in Africa.

Look here, is this
Parker Pyne's way

of finding out about people?

No, it is my way
of finding out about people.

- I see.

Well, let's, let's choose
some vegetables, shall we?

Where's that waiter?

He's about as French
as Wapping, I'd say.

Wait--

Excuse me.

- Merci, monsieur.

- It's easily done.

Now then, legumes.

Ah.

- Well?
- Well?

- I never knew such enchantingly
simple men still existed.

- So?

- What type are
we going to need?

- Oh, don't be so excruciatingly
efficient, Miss L.

You know perfectly
well I cannot keep

the grading codes in my head.

- We shall need the Army
Gazette, I think, Miss Lemon.

- Very good, Mr. Parker Pyne.

- I make it type four.

- You are a bit of
a witch, Miss Lemon.

- I should jolly well hope so.

- Do tell me we agree
about something at last.

- And don't forget, you owe
me a new typewriter ribbon.

- It's yours.

- I have a feeling that this
is a case for Mrs. Oliver.

- Huh?

- How extraordinary.

- What is it, Miss Lemon?

- I was about to
say the same thing.

- We are having a good day.

- Both of you?

Oh, dear.

I could have argued
successfully with either of your

individual opinions, I think,

but this begins to
look like nemesis.

- Mrs. Oliver usually does.

- Ah, well.

What's this?

- Females, type four.

Thank you.

- Hello, Miss Clegg.
- Hello, miss.

- Hello, Charlie.

Hello, Neville.

That fella's here again.

- What fellow?

- Fella that come
before when you was out.

- This morning.

Well, who is he?

- The Prince of Wales!

- Come on, Charlie,
what does he look like?

Not half
as pretty as you.

- Oh.
- Nah, much prettier.

- Yeah, smooth as
an Austin gearbox.

Delicious!

- A heartthrob, a
matinee monsieur.

- Oh, stop it, the pair of you!

What does he want, do you know?

- No.
- Don't half talk odd,

most peculiar.

- Australian.

Australian?

- Yep.

- Anything else?
- Nope.

- Well, I'd better
go and see him.

- Tell us when the wedding is!

- Oh, be quiet, Charlie.

I'll see you later.

- Oh, let me fold
you in my arms!

- Oh, my dearest, I
hunger for your touch!

- Ah, Miss Clegg, there you are.

Hello, Mrs. B.

- There's a gentleman
to see you, a Mr. Reid.

A lawyer, he says.

I suppose he might be a lawyer,

but he's got a funny voice.

- Australian, perhaps?

- Well, it's peculiar,
whatever it is.

Anyway, I put him in my parlor.

You can see him in
there if you like.

You'll be all right in there.

- Oh, that's all right, Mrs. B,

I don't mind seeing
him in my sitting room.

- Are you sure, Miss
Clegg, are you sure?

- I dare say I'll survive.

- Well, I got a
good look at him.

He knows it, so he
needn't think he

can get away with anything.

- I'm sure he won't.

Look, just give me a
moment to get my coat off

and then send him up, all right?

- Well, I don't like it.

I mean, I'll not
forgive myself if--

- I'll be all right.

- Well, I didn't even know
they had lawyers in Australia.

Come in.

- Ah, Miss Clegg?

Mr. Reid, I believe?

- That's right.

It's very good of you,
I'm sure, to see me.

Well, I'm
sorry you had to wait.

- That's all right.

- Do go in.

- Thanks.

- I'm one of the world's
workers, I'm afraid.

Vacuum Gas Company.

- I see.

- Please, sit down.

- Thanks.

Very charming room you have.

- Oh, thank you.

- My goodness, that looks old.

- Oh yes, that's my
father's old sea chest.

- Really?

- Mrs. Benson tells
me you're a lawyer.

- Yes, that's correct.

I'm a solicitor, in fact.

I have a very large
practice in Melbourne.

- Melbourne?

- Yeah.

Actually, I knew
your father years ago

when I was still only
articled to the firm.

Really?

- Yes.

He was, as you
know, master of one

of the Liverpool
& Oriental fleet

at that time and he put some

of the company's
business into our hands.

- I see.

- Now, Miss Clegg, the
reason why I'm here

is the year or two
before your father died,

he entered into some
business transactions

on his own behalf,
which, quite frankly,

had been forgotten until
a reference to them

came to light this
year when we were

overhauling our filing system.

- Oh, really?

I didn't know--

- Oh, it's most unlikely that

you would've heard
anything of the matter.

From the nature of
what we've learned,

it seems that
Captain Clegg hardly

took the affair seriously.

But I have reason to
believe that you might

benefit as a result of it.

- Good heavens, how exciting.

Yes.

- Would you like a
cup of tea, Mr. Reid?

- Oh, no, no, thank you.

The excellent Mrs. Benson
plied me with five cups

of tea and several biscuits.

Well, now, where was I?

Ah, yes, now, the amount
accruing could be considerable.

But I can't go into
details right now

just in case the money
doesn't, in fact, pass to you.

- Oh, quite.

Why might it not?

- Uh well, any claim
that you might make

would depend upon your
ownership of certain papers.

Now, these papers would be
part of your father's estate.

And, of course, they could have
been destroyed as worthless.

You haven't kept any of your
father's papers, have you?

- Well, yes.

My mother put all his
papers and mementos

and so on in his old sea chest.

When she died, I
looked through it,

but I don't think I saw
anything, well, I mean--

- You wouldn't perhaps
recognize the significance

of the papers in question?

- Or any of them,
as a matter of fact.

I see.

- Anyway, I didn't get rid
of a single one of them.

- You?

Well, that's excellent.

Would you
like to see them?

- Uh, please.

- Yes, they're all in there.

- Well, well, well.

Uh, this is very
promising, Miss Clegg.

Look, would you mind
if I took them away

with me and studied
them in my own time?

- Please, you take them.

They're all yours.

- Thank you.

Thank you very much.

Well, now, I'll be in contact
with you, let's see, tomorrow?

Just as soon as I've
been through them.

- Right.

- Right, well,
goodbye, Miss Clegg.

- Goodbye, Mr. Reid.

- Goodbye.

And, uh, I'll see you tomorrow.

Yes.

- Nice little job you're
doing there, Major.

- Good of you to say so.

- Know her, do you, Major?

- Hardly at all.

Ooh,
I reckon she's got

her eye on you, Mrs. Trember.

Buried two husbands
already, you know.

- Really?

- Yeah, very hard
woman to resist.

Only one for you this afternoon.

- Thank you.

- A lovely bit of wisteria that.

Yes.

- Never flowers.

Ah well, I gotta get
up to the old rectory,

so I best be gettin' along.

Cheerio.

Go
to Egremont, Briar's Lane,

Hempstead, tomorrow
at 11:15 sharp

and ask for Mr. de Souza.

You will represent
yourself as an employee

of the Settling Brown
Firearms Company.

- I say, old boy, I say.

You all right, Wally?

Sit and stay.

Help!

Help!

Let me go!

Help!

- Let her go or I'll break
every bone in your body!

- Come on!
- No, let me go!

Let me go!

No!

- Ugh!

- Look behind you!

- Over there!
- Right.

- Ugh!

- Come on!

Come on!

Now we'll see.

Are you all right?

- Yes, I'm fine.

- Good, come on.

We don't know how
many more of them

might be around!

- Thank you, I'm--
- I know.

Thank you.

- There.

That should put a safe
distance between us.

You should have a drop of this.

- I really think I ought.

- There.

- Oh, thank you.

I'm not
used to this stuff.

- Well done.

- You really were
splendid you know.

- Nonsense, it was--

- If you hadn't come along.
- Nothing at all.

No, glad I was on hand.

Nasty experience for you.

- Yes.

But you really

were splendid.
- Really, it was nothing,

really.

You did
pretty well yourself.

Those brutes had quite
a job holding you.

You sure you're all right?

- Oh, much better, thank you.

Good for the brandy.
- Yes.

Oh, by the by, Wilbraham,
Major of that ilk.

Oh, Clegg, Freda Clegg.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Oh, I say, is he yours?

- Inseparable, I'm afraid.

- He's rather nice, isn't he?

- Hmm.

You're taking this
awfully well, you know.

- Oh, well, it
doesn't seem real.

Isn't it odd?

In a way, I was thinking
only this morning

that my existence was too tame.

- Really?

- Hmm.

- Isn't...

- What?

- No, it's nothing.

- Oh.

- Would it help?

I don't mean to pry,
but would it help

to talk about all this?

Not necessarily now,
over lunch, perhaps?

- That would be very nice.

- Splendid.

- Then yesterday, I got
a letter from Mr. Reid

saying he thought he'd found
what he was looking for

and would I mind meeting
to discuss it with him.

The address he gave was that
empty house, Blanchlands.

And the rest you know.

- I see.

Well, one thing's certain.

Whatever it was your father
had amongst his papers,

it was the key to
something valuable.

- Oh, I suppose so.

- It must be so.

I mean, that fellow?

- Reid
- Reid put a lot

of thought into getting
your father's papers.

Evidently, what he
wanted wasn't there

I'm glad to say.

- Yes.

Oh, another thing.

- Hmm?
- Yesterday, when I got up

to my rooms, I had
a feeling that some

of my things had
been tampered with.

It was only a
feeling, of course.

- Well, let's see.

Reid doesn't find
what he's looking for,

so he assumes it must
still be in your room.

So he sends around
someone posing as a water

board inspector, or
something like that.

Still can't find it, so he
assumes you found it yourself.

So he arranges this
dreadful ambush.

- Yes.

- May I make a suggestion?

- Oh, of course.

- After lunch, I think we
should go over to your place

and make absolutely sure whether
this thing exists or not.

You agree?

- I agree.

- Oh, Miss Clegg, there
you are, thank goodness.

How d'you do, sir?

Oh, Miss Clegg, I've
been worrying all day.

That person, I mean, I'd
never forgive myself.

- Well, what on earth's wrong?

- That person yesterday.

You haven't noticed
anything gone

from your room, gone missing?

- No, why?

- No?

Oh, well, what a relief.

What a blessing.

I pride myself on my
viligance, but young Neville

cut his knee, you see,
so I was off my guard.

Otherwise, I would never have,
you know, not unaccompanied.

Even though I do find
the stairs a trial,

I wouldn't have,
not unaccompanied.

- Mrs. Benson, you still
haven't told us what happened.

- Well, from the
electricity yesterday.

Well, that's what he said.

Peaked cap, little bag,
I mean, I never thought.

Something to do with the meters.

Start at the top of the house.

Well, I mean, you
don't know, do you?

And there was Neville's knee.

But he wasn't up there
long, I saw to that.

Quick dab of iodine,
I was up those stairs

before you could say Lloyd
George has your father.

Fiddling with the light he was.

I mean, Inever thought,
but then this morning...

- What happened this morning?

- A man from the electricity
came to read the meter.

- What do you suppose it
is, if we even find it?

Buried treasure?

- Oh, buried's the word,
I've been through everything.

I suppose that fellow...

The egg.

- Sorry?

- May I?

- Oh, yes, of course.

- How stupid of me.

There's something.
- Really?

- Looks like a piece of
soft cloth or tissue,

but it's definitely there.

Do you have a knitting needle,
skewer, something like that?

- Yes, wait a minute.

There.
- Thank you.

Now, then.

Come on.

- Well done.

- Now, let's see.

- Oh!

- It's in Swahili.

I mean, Swahili of all things!

- Can you read it then?

- Oh, yes.

I say, hang on, here's
your buried treasure,

in a manner of speaking.

- Treasure?

- In a manner of speaking.

- What is it?

- Ivory, a mass of it.

An ivory pit laid, um, laid
in dry sand, six courses deep.

Seven by five.

It's directions, most
of it's directions.

It's up in Kikuyu country
by the look of it.

I'd have to consult my maps.

- Ivory?

- Probably the haul
of some old moosy.

- Moosy?

- Moosy wando, elephant poacher.

Yes, the authorities get onto
him, so he hides the lot.

Perhaps even gets
out of the country.

- Perhaps my father
gets him out.

- Yes, that's possible.

Years later, when he knew
he'd never get back there,

he gave your father that.

Your father didn't
take it seriously,

perhaps didn't even
know what it meant,

popped it in the egg
and forgot about it.

Something like that.

- Do you suppose
it's still there?

Whoever's
been trying to find

this obviously thinks so.

- Do you think you'd
be able to find it?

- If anyone can, yes.

It could be worth an
awful lot, you know.

We should go after it.

Us?

- Yes.

- Meanwhile,
- Yes,

- what do we do about this?
- Yes, of course.

- Would you look
after it for me?

- Well, yes, but you've
trusted one man already.

- But you were allowed up
unaccompanied, remember?

- Mrs. Benson, yes.

Right.

I'll take it home, and I'll
work out a plan of action.

- Mind you, it
might be dangerous.

- I'll Iook on that as a bonus.

- Are you sure this is
what Mrs. Oliver said?

- Absolutely.

- But is it really necessary?

I mean, it's not
very original, is it?

- Mrs. Oliver is a writer,
so when it comes to

the construction of a story,
we must accept her verdict.

- Yes, I suppose so.

- Mrs. Oliver did say that you
were a great diagnostician.

- Oh, thank her for me.

- But that all those years
with government statistics

and the company of clockwork men

may have withered his instinct.

- Oh, really!

- I challenged her on that.

I told her that you'd
advance to science,

the science of
happiness, what's more.

- Oh, thank you, Miss Lemon.

It's just that her scheme
seems a little extravagant.

- Well, she's convinced that
if the Major's threatened

in some way, he'll realize
that business is meant.

And then everything else
becomes that much more simple.

- Well, maybe, but it is
very trying, you know.

I've reduced my theories
to a set of precepts

as limpid as the Mediterranean
on a calm day, that is.

But Mrs. Ariadne Oliver...

Oh, perhaps you'd better
get hold of young Lorimar.

- Right, sir.

- Oh, Miss Lemon?

- Yes, sir?

- For you and your typewriter.

- Oh, thank you, sir.

I thought you'd forgotten.

* We could go on loving
in the same old way *

* A Garden of Eden
just made for two *

* With nothing to mar our joy

- Damn!

Oh, what a relief.

Of course!

Why the deuce didn't I
think of that before?

Afternoon.

Hello.

- That won't do no good.

- She's out.

Actually, I
came to see Miss Clegg.

Is she at home?

- Ah!

- Your name Wilbraham?

- Major Wilbraham, that's right.

- Ah!
- Ah!

- What on earth's
that supposed to mean,

you horrible little duo?

- We have a little
bill and coo for you.

- A billet-doux from her.

Here.

- Thank you.

Dear
Major Wilbraham, something

rather strange has happened.

Can you meet me at Blanchlands?

Can you please go there
as soon as you get this?

Yours, Freda Clegg.

- Where did you get this?

Mrs. Benson.

She said to look out for you.

- Thank you.

- She gave us a penny.

- Very well.

Here's a tanner each
for both of you.

There you are.

Ta, ever so.

- Did Mrs Benson say
where she got it?

- No.

- Just that it arrived for you.

- Arrived?

So when did Miss Clegg go out?

- Just after she come back.

I mean, she come back, and
she went straight out again.

- Miss Clegg?
- Yeah.

- I see.

Thank you, men, carry on.

Ugh!

John?

John?

It's me, Freda.

- Hello.

Oh, damn, damn, damn!

Sorry, old girl.

- Don't be silly.

- I knew there was
something wrong,

and still I walked
right into it.

I suppose you didn't
send me a note.

- And you didn't send me one?

- No.

- And have they got the map?

- I suppose they must
have, I had it on me.

Well, well,
Major Wilbraham.

It's alL turned out
very satisfactorily,
wouldn't you say?

- It's Reid!

No?

Well, I can hardly
expect you to agree.

Anyway, we have what
we were looking for.

My most appreciative thanks.

Unfortunately, this also
means you are now dispensable.

Therefore, you wilL
be dispensed with.

Enjoy your last moments together

- Reid!

- John, don't.

- Reid!
- It's no good, you know.

My God, we're being drowned!

- No, we're damn well not.

- Whatever happens, I just
want you to know that--

- I know.

Me, too.

Worth living for,
wouldn't you say?

- I would.

I would.

- Right.

Ah!

Now, you're going
to have to guide me.

- Yes, of course.

Up a bit.

A bit further.

A bit to your left.

Not too far.

You're there.

Are you all right?

- Yes.

Don't worry.

- Are you all right?

Try them.

Just try them once more.

Right!

Nearly.

Well done.

Let me see.

- No, I'm all right.

Got to see to you.

Are your feet tied?

- Yes.

- Damn.

Come on!

Oh!

Come on!

Ah, it's rough as a bear.

- I don't think that was quite
what Mrs. Oliver had in mind.

You can turn
that thing off now.

- Oh.

Poor man.

I've never seen anyone show
that sort of courage before.

Who'd want
to play the hero?

- Oh, that reminds me.

Did you get the job
in the Cochrane show?

- Uh, no.

Too tall or some such rot.

- Oh, bad luck.

- Yes.

- Anyway, I've been
told to tell you

that if you come into
the office tomorrow,

the overwhelmingly
charming Miss Lemon

will give you your fee.

Oh, jolly good.

Oh, by the way,
I'm Iooking for...

- Are you sure I'm
not hurting you?

- Yes.

It's worth a bit of pain
having you here to do it.

I'm glad they found the map.

- Why?

- It was a fake.

The original should
be at my bank by now.

Jolly good.

- So we can still go.

- Go?

- To find it.

- Oh, good.

- You like the cottage?

- Oh, it's beautiful.

Just right.

- For whom?

- For you.

- Or, for us?

- Does that mean what I think?

- Absolutely.

- And Wally?

- Doesn't look as
though he'd mind.

- More tea?

- Ah, thank you.

Another case concluded.

I think the Major's getting
value for money, don't you?

- Oh, certainly, but
was Lorimer really

worth the eight guineas?

He collected the moment the
office was open this morning.

- Miss Lemon, you are the
victim of thespian prejudice.

The poor fellow is
an actor, it's true.

But he's not a scoundrel
because he calls you darling.

No,
our two assailants were

much more reasonable,
30 shillings apiece.

Yes, well,
in this world the unskilled

will always suffer.

- Unless they sit in
the House of Lords.

- Hmm?

You're right, as always.

By the way, how on earth did
you manage with the Swahili?

- Thank you for reminding me.

I consulted the Hertford
Commercial Language Bureau.

I'm afraid that's
another 38 and sixpence.

Mr. Parker Pyne?

- Mrs Ariadne Oliver.

- And sounding very cross.

- Mr. Parker Pyne,
do you realize

you could have
ruined everything?

Have I not impressed upon you,

time and time again, the
importance of detail?

Detail, Mr. Parker Pyne.

- But I'm a master of
detail, Mrs. Oliver.

- Your kind of detail, not mine.

Really!

It's like teaching
music to a tram.

Why didn't you tell me
the basement was gas lit?

It could have been disastrous.

- Ah, your kind of
detail, not mine.

It should have occurred to you.

- If you'd thought
to mention it,

it would have occurred to me.

Silly fellow might
have gassed himself.

Men defeat me, they really do.

Couldn't he have seen that
picture with the broken glass

I put there specially so that
he could cut himself free?

Human nature, I suppose.

I've noticed it before.

People simply will not see
what you want them to see.

I'm always having this
trouble with my characters.

I put a perfectly good
clue in front of them,

they simply turn the other way.

It's too tiresome.

- Tea, Mrs. Oliver?

- Ah, no, thank you.

Anyway, apart from your
unfortunate oversight,

everything went
off well, did it?

- Yes, very well.

- I'm glad.

- There's just one thing.

- What?

- Don't you think that
on a future occasion

might be a little more
original, perhaps?

- No.

- No?

- No.

- Oh.

- What we are talking
about, Mr. Parker Pyne,

is the basis for my being
able to sell my 40 books

in 20 different languages.

That is to say, the conservatism

of the generality of mankind.

People like to know
where they stand.

They read about buried
loot, maidens in distress,

water rising in the
cellar and so on,

and they're thoroughly
familiar with them,

so that when they
experience these things

for themselves, they really
know they've had an adventure.

Put them through
something too unfamiliar,

they merely have a
disagreeable experience

they'd rather forget.

Oh, no, life should imitate
fiction wherever possible.

Now, I must dash.

Thank you.

- Thank you for your
help, Mrs. Oliver.

- Any time, Mr. Parker
Pyne, as long as we

get it right in the end.

Speaking of which.

- Yes?

Do you think
they'll try to find the ivory?

- I sincerely hope so.

- You hope so?
- Yes.

- Oh, well, it's inevitable
they will try, I suppose.

But I think I'd
rather have liked

to have spared them
the disappointment.

- Nonsense.

They're realists, both of them.

Their expectations
won't be very high.

Most important, he
should show her Africa.

Vital.

It's his soul, the very
heart of his experience.

She must see it.

Of course.

- Of course.

Are you
very disappointed?

- It's funny, you know.

When I saw the mission
station and the road

and everything and the
canning factory built

just where the stuff was
supposed to be buried,

I didn't mind.

More than that, I was
actually quite pleased.

It was only then that I
realized how happy I was.

If we'd found your ivory,
things would have changed.

I want nothing to change.

Does that make sense?

- I was dreading finding it too.

- Good Lord, were you?

We should've forgotten all
about it, gone up country.

- I thought you'd
be disappointed.

- I thought you would be.

Do you know
it's our anniversary?

- Really?

- Six weeks to the day we met.

- Six weeks?

- Well, what is it?

- I've just remembered,
a chap owes me 50 quid.

Still, I suppose...

- What?

- Six weeks, seems more like
a couple of days, doesn't it?

- Weren't we lucky,
finding each other?

- Weren't we just?