All language subtitles for Agatha Christies Poirot (1989) - S07E01 - The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (1080p BluRay x265 afm72)_Subtitles03_PGS-eng

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POIROT: A man may labor
and toil to attain

a certain kind of leisure
in retirement,

and then find that,
after all, he yearns

for the old busy days,

and the old occupations

he had thought himself
so glad to leave.

I had already begun to miss
the daily toil

of my previous employment,
when, tout a cout,

I was flung back
into the midst

of the most perversely
fascinating work

that there is in the world --
the study of human nature.

A journal came
into my possession

in which a murderer
had taken the trouble

to record for posterity
the thoughts

that had accompanied
a crime most dastardly.

Rarely have I come across
such bitterness, such envy

and contempt of others,
such haughtiness misplaced.

"Our village, Kings Abbott,
is, I imagine, very much like

any other English village.

A chilly medieval church
stands at the top

of a single street
of stone-built cottages.

At the bottom of the street,
a bridge crosses a stream

where the snotty-nosed
offspring of the poor

perfect the most advanced skill
they will ever possess.

Although
to the casual observer

Kings Abbott
is a friendly place,

everything
iS not as it seems.

Just scratch the surface,

and you will find more
Jealousies and rivalries

than Ancient Rome."

Parker.

I'm calling next door
at Mr. Poirot's...

POIROT: "My little book

is about the murder
of Roger Ackroyd,

the events leading up to it,

the subsequent numbskull
investigation,

and the final revelation
to you alone, dear reader,

of the guilty party."

Hello?

[Clocks strike hour]

POIROT:
Now I give up on you.

You shall torment me no longer.

I will kill you!

Sacré!

My dear doctor!

I beg of you 1,000 pardons!

But these vegetable marrows,
they have driven me

to the edges of barbarity!

Please to forgive me.

I am ashamed.
I prostrate myself.

What's the trouble, Poirot?

Oh, you know, Doctor,

it is my desire to grow
a vegetable marrow,

the proportions gigantesque.

And you have seen
how I nurse her.

Each day I give to her water,

each day I weed around her
with my very best tweezers.

And when those little flowers
of hers, they show themselves,

I remove them, all but one,

so that her strength,
it may be conserved.

Does she appreciate
this cosseting?

No.

She grows to the size
that is merely conventional,

then rests upon her laurels.

You mustn't
upset yourself, Poirot.

No.
No, you are correct.

But you can figure it
for yourself, James.

When one retires, one hurls
oneself into new pursuits.

Oh.

Pardon, Monsieur Parker.

What can I do for you?

I've come to take
you to the factory, sir.

But it is just struck 10:00.

My appointment
was not until 11:00.

Yes, but Mr. Ackroyd hoped you
wouldn't mind it being earlier.

He's got a bit of a busy day.

POIROT: "Our only captain
of industry is the vulgarian

Mr. Roger Ackroyd.

The factory
from which Ackroyd's

ill-gotten wealth emanates

encapsulates the life we lead
here -- ferment and turmoil."

Have you got a penny, Poirot?

Oui.

Thank you.

Show Monsieur Poirot
what your acid can do, Ted.

POIROT: "It is here

that he lines his pockets
by combining unlikely chemicals

to make unnecessary products,

while befouling
the very air we breathe.

He likes to think of himself

as a scientist."

I'm afraid the noise

was a bit too much
for you, Poirot.

Not at all.

I envy you, mon ami.

Who would have thought
those experiments

at the back of your little shop
would led to this, huh?

Your country house but a mile
or two away, and yet here,

we have the challenges
and triumphs of great industry.

I'm eternally grateful to you
for that first loan, Poirot.

And you can't say you're not
without your own triumphs.

And now you've
got your reward --

the peace and quiet
of the country, your garden.

Hmm.

You don't regret retiring
down here, then?

POIROT: Oh, no, no.
Not at all.

For 30 years, I was exposed
to the dark side of life, huh?

It takes its toll, you know?

I'm sure it does.

POIROT: And now, as you say,

I have my reward.

[Knock on door]

Excuse me, Mr. Ackroyd.

ACKROYD:
What is it, Raymond?

-Mr. Paton is here, sir.
-Mr. Paton?

Your stepson, sir.

I know who Mr. Paton is,
thank you, Mr. Raymond.

Let him in!

Why is it I can't stand
that fellow?

Eh bien.

Now, I must return
to Kings Abbott.

Thank you very much, my friend,
for showing to me

your factory magnifique.

I can't understand why
you haven't been here before.

You've been here
nearly a year now.

But all in all, this has been
a good week for me.

Oh?

Read your newspaper
on Saturday morning, Poirot,

under "Forthcoming Marriages."

You mean your stepson
and Mademoiselle Flora?

Please to accept
my congratulations.

[Knock on door]

ACKROYD:
Ah, Ralph, my dear boy.

You remember Monsieur Poirot?

Yes, of course.
How are you, Mr. Poirot?

I am well, thank you.

I regret I am on the point
of departure.

I'l get Parker
to run you home.

See to it, Raymond, will you?

Merci.
Au revoir.

Goodbye.

What are you doing here?

POIROT:
"With his ill-gotten gains,

Ackroyd has built himself
a truly ostentatious house,

spending a fortune
on architects'

and surveyors' fees,
no doubt.

He lives there
with the former wife

of his deceased brother,
Mrs. Vera Ackroyd,

and her daughter, Flora --

vultures,
eagerly awaiting his demise."

Shall I pour, Mrs. Ackroyd?

Yes.

Oh, tea.
Wonderful.

Hello, Ursula.

Shall I pour for you, too,
Miss Flora?

Yes, thank you.

-Isn't this exciting?
-Tea?

No, you goose.

The forthcoming announcement.

And not before its time, either.

URSULA: Oh!

I'm sorry.
I'll -- um, I'll get a cloth.

I really don't know where
our Roger finds these girls.

Have you spoken to Ralph?

No, Mummy.
He's in London.

You'd think
he might telephone

on the occasion
of his engagement.

I, uh, came down last night.

I'm staying at the White Hart.

Look, uh, Father --

What's wrong with Fernly Park
all of a sudden?

Well, there's nothing wrong
with Fernly Park.

Look, I heard you were going
to announce the engagement.

Flora's all for it.

Well, yes.
Perhaps she is.

ACKROYD: You've been putting
it off and putting it off

for three months now, nearly.

Well, I've been trying
to find a job, Father.

I always told your late mother
that I would look after you

as if you were my own son,
Ralph.

I know, but --
[Knock on door]

No buts.
We...

Didn't I say I did not
want to be disturbed?!

Mrs. Ferrars
is on the telephone, sir.

Oh.

Hello?

MRS. FERRARS: Roger?
It's Dotty.

[Crying]
I've got to see you.

There's something
I've got to tell you.

ACKROYD: Ralph!

I'll try to come round
late this afternoon.

All right, all right!

I'll definitely come round
late this afternoon.

I'll be there.

POIROT: "The highly strung

and unpredictable
Dorothy Ferrars

Is something of an enigma
to the villagers.

She lives alone,
in considerable comfort,

thanks to the wealth
she inherited

from her late husband --

a sot who died in suspicious
circumstances last year."

[Gasping]

[Telephone ringing]

Dr. Sheppard.

Oh!

In 10 minutes.

Who was that?

Inspector Davis.

Now, tell me, Mary, my girl,

why did you come
to wake her so early?

Friday was her morning
to go riding.

She liked to be out
the house before 6:00.

[Crying]

All right, Mary.
Thank you.

Go and get yourself
a cup of tea, eh?

SHEPPARD: Veronal.

You think it's suicide?

Ask me after the inquest.

It's almost a year since
her husband died, isn't it?

Almost exactly.

Did you find a note?

Not yet.

Sheppard.
I want to talk to you.

You've heard
about Mrs. Ferrars.

SHEPPARD: Yes. I only saw
her yesterday afternoon.

Come to Fernly Park tonight.
7:30.

I've been thinking
about Dotty Ferrars.

Oh, yes?

She must have taken
the Veronal on purpose.

Remorse.

Remorse?

CAROLINE:
You never would listen to me

last year when I told you

how she'd poisoned that
awful husband of hers.

This proves it.

[Doorbell rings]

Oh.

Oh, hello.
Please to come in.

POIROT: Thank you.

We have a visitor, James.

Oh, pardon, doctor.
You are at your luncheon.

Oh, no, no, no.
We've just finished.

Hercule's come round
with a little job for you.

Oui.
Ma pendule de voyage.

Pendule?

Ah!

A carriage clock.

POIROT:
How say you, James?

Perhaps I have overwound her?

No. It looks as if she
just needs a good clean.

Ah.

I'll do what I can with it.

It is good, I think,
to have the hobby, no?

[Laughs]
You've got your garden, Poirot.

Yes.

-Good morning.
-Morning.

PATON: Just a little more time.
You've got to be patient.

WOMAN: Oh, for heaven's sake!

My dear girl, it's quite
on the cards

the old fellow will
cut me off with a shilling.

WOMAN: Of course, he won't!

PATON: He's been pretty fed up
with me the last few years.

A little more would do it.
And we need the dibs.

I'll be a very rich man
when the old fellow pops off.

So, we don't want him
to alter his will.

WOMAN: Then why stay here,
not at Fernly Park?

PATON:
Look, leave this to me.

Don't worry.

WOMAN: Worry!
It's all very well for you.

You'll feel more comfortable
in a day or two, I'm sure.

Thank you, Doctor.

James, I -- Oh.

Oh, I am sorry.

Goodbye.

He wasn't on your panel.

No, my dear sister.
Cash.

I saw something
quite peculiar just now.

SHEPPARD: Really?

First of all,
Ralph Paton is here,

and staying at the White Hart.

-Staying there?
-Staying there.

And he was talking to a girl.

I couldn't quite
see who she was.

Presumably it was Flora.

But that doesn't
make any sense.

Mind you, it makes even less
sense if it wasn't.

ACKROYD: There is evil
in this village, Poirot.

Downright evil!

POIROT: Well, tell me
what has happened, mon ami.

You didn't know
Ashley Ferrars, did you?

No.

I believe that he died
before I arrived here.

Yes, I thought so.

After he died, there were all
sorts of rumors flying about.

Well, this sometimes
happens in a small town.

Anyway, the coroner
said gastritis,

exacerbated by acute alcoholism,

then peritonitis,
and that was that.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I found out
he was poisoned.

Poisoned?

Look, I might as well
tell you this, Poirot.

I've been well, in love

with Dorothy Ferrars for years.

She telephoned me yesterday.

Very upset.

Wanted to see me.

She broke down completely.

She told me everything.

Her hatred of that brute
of a husband,

her growing feelings for me,

and the dreadful means
she'd taken to --

Poison!

Murder!

Cold-blooded murder!

I see.

ACKROYD:
The terrible thing is,

she must have seen
the shock in my face.

I mean,
I couldn't disguise it.

I drove her to suicide.

But it was reported that
her death was accidental.

You must not blame yourself,
mon ami.

I know, but she also
told me something else.

It seemed that there
was one person

who'd known about the murder
all along,

and was blackmailing
her for huge sums.

And do you know
who was this person?

She wouldn't tell me his name.

As a matter of fact, she didn't
even say it was a man, but...

Well, they're not going
to get away with it!

You intend to hunt down
this blackmailer?

If only Dotty had left a note.

She might have given a name.

Roger...

you must be careful.

SHEPPARD: Thank you, Ursula.

Ah, Sheppard.
Good evening.

Good evening.
Evening, Poirot.

Good evening, James.

I'm just seeing
Monsieur Poirot out.

Go on into the sitting room,
will you?

Thank you.

Thank you, Monsieur Parker.

[Jazz music plays]

SHEPPARD: Ah.

Hello, Dr. Sheppard.

I didn't know you were
coming this evening.

You know, you've got
to congratulate me.

-Indeed?
-Look.

I'm going to marry Ralph.

I know you'll both
be very happy, Flora.

Oh, we've been engaged
for three months now,

but it's going to be announced
officially tomorrow.

[Door opens]
Ah.

Why, Dr. Sheppard!

Good evening, Mrs. Ackroyd.

MRS. ACKROYD: [Sighs]

Is it true about
poor Mrs. Ferrars?

She died last night.
Yes.

MRS. ACKROYD: Did she --

Was it suicide?

We don't know yet.

Poor woman.

Oh, well.

Life must go on, I suppose.

[Music turns off]

I wish you'd tell me about
these antique things,

Dr. Sheppard.

I'm sure you know
what they all are.

Just because
I'm an antique myself...

Ah, Sheppard.
There you are.

Look, you're staying
to dinner, aren't you?

We can talk later.

[Rings]

Fernly Park.

POIROT: Is Monsieur
Roger Ackroyd available?

No. He's at dinner
at the moment, Mr. Poirot.

-At dinner?
-Yes.

Could I leave a message
for him to call me back?

I'm at my cottage.

I'll ask him to call you.

And, Monsieur Parker,

will you be sure to give
him the message now?

Certainly, sir.

So, I said, just because
you're breaking eggs,

it doesn't mean that
you're making an omelette.

[Laughter]

My late husband
detested omelettes.

Mr. Poirot telephoned, sir.

I told him you were at dinner.

Thank you, Parker.

I'l phone him later.

In fact, my late husband
disliked anything

even remotely
to do with chickens.

[Doorbell buzzes]

Last post.
Feels like it, too.

Thanks, Barney.

The evening post, sir.

Put the other letters
on the table, Parker, thank you.

Yes, sir.

"My dear,

my very dear Roger..."

POIROT:
"There is one thing a murderer

may rely on for protection --

that the account
of every witness

will be radically different

from the account
of every other,

even though all were present
on the same occasion."

I trust you enjoyed your dinner,
Dr. Sheppard.

Indeed, I did.
Thank you, Parker.

Oh, I'll just go and say
good night to the ladies.

Yes, sir.

Good night, ladies.

Oh.
Do you have to go, Doctor?

Oh, unfortunately, I do.

Good night.

And once again,
congratulations, Flora.

Oh, thank you, Dr. Sheppard.
Good night.

ACKROYD: However, I regret to
say that the calls on my purse

have been so frequent of late
that it is impossible for me

to accede to your request.

As you will appreciate...

Parker.

Mr. Ackroyd says he doesn't
want to be disturbed tonight.

Oh.

Very well, Miss Flora.

Well, it doesn't sound
like a very interesting evening,

I must say.

Didn't you hear anything
about Ralph, even?

Well, yes.

I heard he got officially
engaged to Flora at last.

Then what was that I heard him
saying to her

this afternoon
at the White Hart?

Who can say, my dear?

[Telephone rings]

Oh, no, why do people always
choose bedtime to get ill?

Dr. Sheppard.

What?!

What?

Yes, I'll come at once.

CAROLINE: What is it?

What is it, James?

It's Parker.
From Fernly.

They've just found
Roger Ackroyd murdered.

-Yes, sir?
-Where is he?

Beg your pardon, sir?

Have you called the police?

The police, sir?

What's the matter with you,
Parker?

If your master
has been found murdered...

Murdered, sir?

Didn't you telephone me

five minutes ago and tell me

Mr. Ackroyd had been
found murdered?

No, indeed, sir.
I wouldn't dream --

Do you mean to say
it's all a hoax?

Oh, thank God!

Though I should like to strangle
whoever the joker is.

I can just check
if you'd like, sir.

See if everything's all right.

No, no,
there's no point in that.

Let me just go and see, sir.

SHEPPARD:
Where's everybody else?

The ladies
have gone to bed, sir.

I believe Mr. Raymond
is still up.

It seems to be locked.

Perhaps he's gone up to bed.

I've never known him
to lock this door before.

The key's in the lock
on the other side.

Ackroyd?!

Ackroyd!

He may have fallen asleep.

Sorry, Parker.

-Dr. Sheppard, sir!
-Out of the way!

No.

The fewer people disturb
this room, the better.

Ring the police station,
Parker.

[Ringing doorbell]

Yes.
Right away.

Mr. Ackroyd's been murdered.

What did you say?

It's Mr. Ackroyd, sir.

He's dead.

In the study.

[Doorbell buzzes]

RAYMOND: Oh, my God!

[Doorbell buzzing]

What are you doing here?

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Poirot.
You'd better come in.

Thank you.

I was just telephoning
the police.

What has happened,
Monsieur Parker?

Mr. Ackroyd's been killed, sir.

Murdered.

Who would do such
a terrible thing?

Oh, Poirot.
Thank God!

Nobody's been in here.

What do you think, Poirot?

I have failed, my friend.

POIROT: "Our local police

are a constant source
of harmless amusement.

A year ago, they could not

even see that the death
of Ashley Ferrars was murder.

This time,
they will probably claim

that Ackroyd
committed suicide."

Ackroyd was in such
a strange mood all day.

Mrs. Ferrars'
dying hit him badly.

Evening, gentlemen.

Has this been moved at all?

I ascertained that life
was extinct,

nothing more.

Who found the body?

The butler Parker and myself.

I'd been here to dinner,
but I was back at home

when I got a telephone call
from Parker

telling me Mr. Ackroyd
had been murdered.

So Parker had already
found the body?

No, sir, I didn't make
any phone call, sir.

Wait a minute.
Wait a minute.

Dr. Sheppard says --

PARKER: I didn't phone, sir.
I swear I didn't!

Did it sound like Parker's voice
on the telephone?

SHEPPARD:
I can't say I noticed.

I took it for granted, you see.

How odd.

Anyway, you came in here --

Broke the door down.
It was locked from the inside.

Has anyone checked the window?

Well, this is the way
the murderer

came in, all right,
and went out.

Look.
A footprint.

CONSTABLE: Made by a boot
with a rubber sole, sir.

DAVIS: When was Mr. Ackroyd
last seen alive?

I left at 9:00.

He was certainly alive then.

He was alive at 9:30.

I heard him talking
in the study.

Who was he talking to?

RAYMOND: I don't know.

At the time, I assumed
it was Dr. Sheppard.

But, in fact,
you'd already left.

Did you overhear
any of the conversation?

Just a fragment.

Mr. Ackroyd said something like,

"The calls on my purse
have been so frequent of late

that it is impossible for me
to accede to your request."

I didn't hear any more.

But a demand for money.

It may be important.

If you'll excuse me,
Inspector Davis.

Miss Flora saw him
after half past 9:00.

I saw her leave the study

at 10 past 10:00.

Send someone to get her,
will you?

Yes, sir.

DAVIS: I don't know you, sir.
What's your name?

SHEPPARD: This is
Hercule Poirot, Inspector.

The famous detective?

Oh, yes?

What are you doing here?

Monsieur Ackroyd was a friend
of mine, Inspector.

I was with him earlier
this evening.

When was the last time you saw
Mr. Ackroyd alive?

We said goodbye at 7:36.

I then went home.

What are you doing here now?

Monsieur Ackroyd
was in a mood of great upset.

I was worried about him,
and I made my return.

DAVIS: Thank you, sir.

RAYMOND:
I have to say this.

Mr. Ralph Paton
is down here from London.

He came to the factory
to see Mr. Ackroyd.

They had words.

[Clears throat]
What about?

I don't really know.

Something to do with
Mr. Ackroyd's will, I think.

[Knock on door]

Oh, this is awful.

It can't be true.

DAVIS: Miss Ackroyd, I'm afraid

I'm going to have ask you
a few questions.

Parker says he saw you coming

out of your uncle's study
at 10 past 10:00.

Is that right?

Do you think I am a murderer?!

POIROT: Mademoiselle
if you please, just sit.

Please.

[Sighs]

DAVIS: We're just trying
to place everyone in the house,

find out what
they've seen or heard.

All right.

Yes, I -- 1 did go in to say
good night to Uncle Roger.

At 10 past 10:00.

I don't know.

Yes.

About then.

DAVIS: Was he alone?

Alone.
Yes.

Did you notice if the window
was open or shut?

I don't know!

I didn't look.

Well, the curtains
were drawn, anyway.

Oh, God!

Can I drive you home, Poirot?

No, merci.

I prefer to walk.

POIROT: "From now on,
the deception began in earnest.

You could scarcely move
for people protesting

how innocent they were
or pointing the finger of guilt

at someone else.

There was so much smoke,

you could hardly see
across the High Street.

Such larks!"

[Bicycle bell rings]

Oh!
Hello, Flora.

I came to see Mr. Poirot.

Is he in?

Well, he's terribly upset,
actually.

My brother's with him now.

We both came round.

Who would do a thing like that
to such a man, James?

Well, it's difficult to say.

The question
was a rhetorical one, mon ami.

It's Flora.

Mr. Poirot, I'm sorry
to burst in on you.

Mademoiselle.

But the police think that Ralph
murdered my uncle.

He didn't do it, Mr. Poirot.

He really didn't.

I cannot help you, mademoiselle.

But you're a detective.

SHEPPARD: Your uncle

was Monsieur Poirot's
friend, Flora.

In any case, mademoiselle,
I am now retired.

I work no longer.

I'll -- I'll pay you.

I'll find the money somehow.

It's not a question of money.

Come on, old girl.

What am I going to do?

What am I going to do?

Where's Ralph now?

FLORA: I don't know.

Not exactly.

Uncle Roger told me yesterday

he was staying
at the White Hart.

But he's not there now.

They told me he left
in the middle of the night.

But he's left
all his things behind.

I see.

No, you don't see!

Ralph may have done
some foolish things in the past,

but he wouldn't murder anyone.

Mademoiselle, I cannot
help you as you wish.

But I --

But I will go to Inspector Davis
and speak on your behalf.

That may do some good.

Between ourselves,
Chief Inspector,

my money's on Ralph Paton,
the stepson, he's --

[Knock on door]

That, uh, foreign gentleman
to see you, Inspector.

I don't want to be disturbed!

I will take only five minutes
of your time, Inspector.

I know that voice!

Chief Inspector Japp!

I knew the name Kings
what-do-you-call-it

sounded familiar.

Oh, my dear friend!

JAPP: Poirot.

[Laughs]

There was I, thinking you'd
retired, and I come down here,

I find you mixed up
in murders and all sorts.

No, no, no, Chief Inspector.

I am not, as you say,
all mixed up.

No, Monsieur Roger Ackroyd was
my very old friend,

and that is all.

Yeah, but you're going to
help us out, though, aren't you?

Help me talk to
all these cabbage-bashers.

No.

No. Chief Inspector, I have been
idle for too long.

Come on, Poirot.
It'll be like old times.

[Laughs]

Very well.

But, uh,
only on the outskirts.

Inspector Davis,

Mademoiselle Ackroyd
tells me you suspect

most strongly Ralph Paton.

It was either him or the butler.

JAPP: What have
we got against Paton?

First, he left the White Hart
last night,

and hasn't been seen since.

Secondly, it's said he's in
serious financial difficulties

and will probably profit
from the will.

And thirdly, said he had
a row with the victim.

Sounds pretty fruity.

Perhaps a little too fruity,
mon ami.

We'll see about that.

I've got here a pair of shoes

which we got from
the White Hart.

I'll compare them
to the foot marks

on the window sill.

JAPP: Has anyone seen

any suspicious strangers
hanging around here?

Any strangers calling
on Mr. Ackroyd

at all
over the last week or so?

Yes, there was.

That young man,
called himself a salesman.

On Wednesday.

He was in with Mr. Ackroyd
a good hour.

No, no, no.

That was
a perfectly innocent salesman.

He came to the factory
trying to sell Dictaphones,

and Mr. Ackroyd had him come
here to demonstrate.

Mr. Tuffnell, his name was.

JAPP: Yes, all right.

Now, let's get back
to the events of last night.

PARKER: There was something,
though, last night,

Chief Inspector.

Yeah?

I was on the terrace
outside the sitting room

smoking at about 9:30.

And I saw...

well, I thought I saw a woman

disappearing into the bushes
near the summer house.

Just a gleam of white, you know?

No idea who it was?

I'm not even sure.

It could have been just a trick
of the moonlight, you know?

Yes, all right.
Thank you.

Now,

when you, Dr. Sheppard, and you,
Parker, break the door down,

you are confronted
by the sight

of Mr. Ackroyd
dead in this chair.

Quite.

POIROT:
If I may, Chief Inspector?

Of course.

Thank you.

Is this room exactly
as it was then?

The curtains were drawn, sir.

And the electric light was on.

Bon.
Anything else?

Yes. That chair was
drawn out a little more.

Bon.

Show me.

Voila ce qui est curieux.

How say you, Chief Inspector?

No one would sit in a chair
in such a position, I fancy.

Well, it's an odd place
for it to be, all right.

But I can't see
that it's very important.

Right. It is completely
unimportant.

That is why it is
so interesting.

These shoes match the marks
on the window sill precisely.

POIROT: Of course they do,
Inspector.

Of course they do.

POIROT: "For the moment,

Ralph Paton
Is the chief suspect.

If muddy shoes could convict,

they'd have him swinging from
the gallows by the morning.

There is only one problem.

The spineless Lothario
is nowhere to be found."

PARKER: I helped Mr. Ackroyd

build this house, you know,
design it and everything.

These modern houses, you see,
generally, they don't have

the facilities for staff
like proper houses.

Mr. Ackroyd,
he wanted it just so.

He was a good employer, no?

He could be short with you,
could Mr. Ackroyd,

but he was always fair.

We shan't see his like again.

No, indeed.

Tell me,

Monsieur Parker,
what is your opinion

of the secretary,
Monsieur Raymond?

He's a bit of a stick, to tell
you the truth, Mr. Poirot,

but he's all right.

It's just that he told to
Inspector Davis last night

that he overheard
Monsieur Ackroyd

talking in his study
at half past 9:00.

I am not disposed
to believe him.

I don't know about that, sir.

I don't think Mr. Raymond
is the type to tell an untruth.

Ah.

PARKER:
But there is something.

I mean...I haven't
mentioned it before,

but it's been nagging away
at the back of my mind, like.

RAYMOND:
It was usually kept

in the display case
in the sitting room.

I'm sure it was there
before dinner last night.

Excuse me, Chief Inspector.

Monsieur Parker would like
to show to us something.

Monsieur Parker?

It's these.

They came in the evening post
last night.

So what?

Well, there were five

when I brought them in.

And now there are four.

I noticed particularly because

these are all business
sort of letters.

And there was
one more personal one,

handwritten.

Dark blue envelope.

Quite distinctive.

Perhaps Mr. Ackroyd
put it in his pocket.

Was any such letter discovered
on the body, Inspector?

No.

So, this will be the French
windows into the sitting room.

Yes, Chief Inspector.

Inside of which was the case

that contained
the murderous weapon,

conveniently within reach.

Hmm.

And along here, no other...

no other window
overlooks the terrace

'til we come to the study
of Monsieur Ackroyd.

[Knock on window]

Chief Inspector?

I've just had a call
from the GPO.

They've traced that telephone
call that Dr. Sheppard got.

It was logged at 10:15
last night

from a public telephone box

at Kings Abbott
railway station.

And at 10:23 the night mail
leaves for Liverpool.

Why should the murderer
telephone at all?

There seems
no rhyme nor reason to it.

Oh, there was a reason,
Chief Inspector.

Of that you can be sure.

And when we know it,
we will know everything.

Everyone tells me it's been fine
and dry here for a fortnight.

So, how did
those muddy footprints

get on the window sill?

POIROT: That is easy,
Chief Inspector.

See you there?

The gardener
has left dripping the tap.

JAPP: Oh, yeah.

Ah, there's
the same footprint again.

You see also there

the footprint of the lady?

Well, there's plenty of women
in the house.

Come, Chief Inspector.

Let us investigate
together the summer house.

My Emily wanted one of these.

But it didn't seem quite right
in Isleworth.

What have you got, Poirot?

It's a bit of cloth from
a handkerchief or something.

Perhaps.

Remember this, Chief Inspector.

The good laundry,

it does not starch
the handkerchief.

POIROT: The organization,
it is in disorder today?

Because of Mr. Ackroyd's
absence? Hardly.

Why? His guiding hand,
it is not missed?

Mr. Ackroyd's guiding hand

was more likely
to hold things up than...

I'm sorry, I shouldn't
have said that.

But the truth is, I handled

all the day-to-day running
of the business.

Not that I got
any thanks for it.

HAMMOND: Sundry creditors,

403 pounds, 7 shillings
and 4 pence.

[Knock on door]

RAYMOND:
Mr. Hammond is Mr. Ackroyd's

personal lawyer, as well
as acting for the company.

I'm Detective Chief Inspector
Japp of Scotland Yard.

And this is Hercule Poirot.

Private detective.

We need to know what's
in Mr. Ackroyd's will.

HAMMOND: I see.

But, uh, I shall be coming down
to the house

later on anyway,
for the reading.

So much to do.

Oh, so much to do!

Yes.
What's in the will?

Well, the will
consists of a series

of legacies and bequests --

JAPP: Such as?

Well, there's...

£500 to his secretary,
Mr. Geoffrey Raymond.

Then, Mrs. Vera Ackroyd

receives the income
from £10,000 worth of shares,

during her lifetime,

while her daughter,
Flora Ackroyd,

inherits £20,000 outright.

And the majority of the estate?

The, uh, residue,
including Fernly Park,

and the shares
in Ackroyd Chemicals,

to his adopted son,
Mr. Ralph Paton.

Tell me.

The estate
of Monsieur Roger Ackroyd,

it was very large?

HAMMOND: Oh, yes, indeed.

Mr. Paton will be
a very wealthy young man.

Merci.

Tell me, Chief Inspector,

the stationmaster
at Kings Abbott,

was he of any help?

JAPP:
Not a lot, I'm afraid.

Nobody remembers anybody
using the phone box.

But about that time,
you've got the London train

coming in on one platform

and the Liverpool train
on the other, so...

Was anyone seen
to board these trains?

Well, a porter
remembers a young man

getting on the train
to Liverpool, he thinks.

Mind you...

Voila.

JAPP:
She looks pretty browned off.

Let us go and cheer her up,
Chief Inspector.

Bonjour, Mademoiselle Ackroyd.

Oh, you startled me.

There's something
I've been meaning to ask you,

Miss Ackroyd.

Did you go anywhere
near the summer house

on the night of the murder?

Summer house?
No.

Only someone, a lady,

was seen in its vicinity.

Well, it wasn't me.

This would have been
about half past 9:00.

Thank you, mademoiselle.

You have been most helpful.

I've got to get back
to the house, anyway.

I was just getting
started with her.

Very likely.

Is she out of sight,
Chief Inspector?

Yeah.
What are you doing, Poirot?

Poirot?

Always one must keep the eyes
on the alert, mon ami.

[Grunts]

One little glint
in the sunlight...

Voila!

It's a wedding ring.

Yes, indeed.
Oh!

A woman's, probably,
by the size of it.

Very likely.
Do you think this will stain?

Funny place to find
a wedding ring.

Oh.
Hang on.

There's an inscription.

"From R.

March 13th."

Do we know who R might be?

No.

Ah, Mr. Raymond.

Not now, Chief Inspector.

What's going on, Parker?

I don't rightly know, sir.

Something's gone missing.

[Mrs. Ackroyd yelling]

I have never thought the staff

at Fernly Park
were quite trustworthy.

What happens, madame?

SHEPPARD:
Some money is missing.

Stolen.

SHEPPARD:
We don't know that.

£40, Monsieur Poirot.

From poor Roger's bedroom.

SHEPPARD: Mr. Hammond is down
from London to read the will.

He asked Raymond if there
was cash in the house.

It has to be included
in the estate, of course.

When Raymond went to get it
from Mr. Ackroyd's bedroom,

it was gone.

I have never thought the staff
here were trustworthy.

Oh, come, Mrs. Ackroyd.

Right.
Who's the current suspect?

MRS. ACKROYD:
The parlor maid, Ursula.

She was given
her notice yesterday.

Doubtless she thought
she'd leave

with a little unearned bonus.

You are Ursula Bourne?

Yes, sir.

I understand you're leaving.

URSULA: Yes.

DAVIS: Why is that?

I disarranged some papers
on Mr. Ackroyd's desk.

He was very angry about it
and said I had better leave.

DAVIS: Let me tell you, my girl,
a considerable amount of money,

£40, is missing
from this drawer.

Well, if you think I took it
and that is why Mr. Ackroyd

dismissed me,
well, then, you're wrong.

Well, it seems --

POIROT:
If you please, Inspector?

Mademoiselle Ursula,
it was yesterday afternoon

that Monsieur Roger Ackroyd
dismissed you,

was it not?

How long did it last,
this interview?

Interview?

Interview between you and
Monsieur Ackroyd in the study.

10 minutes? 20 minutes?
Half an hour?

Something like that.

Half an hour?

Well, not longer, certainly.

POIROT:
Merci, mademoiselle.

PARKER:
Not one flipping penny!

Six years,
I worked for that bastard!

Not one flipping penny.

Well, that's what
they're like, isn't it?

Well, who do you think's
got the last laugh?

Who knows all the little
family secrets, eh?

MAN: Last orders, gentlemen,
now, please!

PARKER: Come on!

Plenty of room!

Come on!

Come on, you bastard!

Plenty of room!

POIROT: "First, Roger Ackroyd,
brutally stabbed in his study.

Now his manservant Parker,

deliberately run down
by a motorcar.

Has the killer no mercy?

No conception
of the difficulty

of finding good servants?

Our dud detectives continue
to run around in circles."

Why would anyone
want to kill the butler?

Perhaps he was going to reveal
to us something.

But tell me, Chief Inspector,
what did you think

of the story told to us
by the parlor maid?

-What story?
-The story of her dismissal.

To dismiss a servant,
does it take half an hour?

Well, that was in the afternoon,
wasn't it?

It can't have anything
to do with the murder.

I am not sure.

Perhaps, in time, the scrap
of cambric that I found

will tell us.

You're doing what
you always do, Poirot.

What is that, Chief Inspector?

-Confusing me.
-Ah.

Just when I think I'm getting
a grip on a case.

Then I...

POIROT: Tell to me,
Chief Inspector...

what is your grip?

Well, you've got to be logical,
you see, Poirot.

Oui, bien sur.

JAPP: All right.

Now, what have we got?

The last person
to see Roger Ackroyd alive

was Dr. Sheppard,
who left him at 9:00.

No. You forget
Mademoiselle Flora Ackroyd,

who went in to say
good night to him

at 10 minutes after 10:00.

Oh.

POIROT: Do not disquiet
yourself, Chief Inspector.

I do not believe her.
Please, do continue.

Oh.
But why would she...?

Anyway, then Raymond
heard Ackroyd

talking to somebody
at half past 9:00.

Ralph Paton disappeared
from his lodgings

on the night of the murder,
and nobody's seen him since.

The person Ackroyd was talking
to was asking for money.

Ralph Paton was always
in financial trouble,

and he's the chief beneficiary
of the victim's will.

Ralph Paton had a row
with the victim,

Ralph Paton's footprints
are all over the window sill.

So, who is the murderer,
do you think, Chief Inspector?

Very amusing, Poirot.

Look, if Paton were innocent,
he'd come forward, wouldn't he?

Mais oui.
That is a theory, that.

Certainly you have the little
gray cells, of a kind.

But it leaves
unaccounted a great deal.

What, for instance?

The chair that was moved.

Oh, not the chair again.

It was pulled out,
it was pushed back.

Perhaps the murderer was afraid
that one day Monsieur Parker

would realize
of the significance.

I'm trying to deal in facts
here, Poirot.

But the chair is a fact,
mon ami!

As are the telephone call,
the wedding ring discarded,

the £40 missing, and the murder
of Monsieur Parker.

Why,
Hercule!

Madame Sheppard.

Isn't it terrible
about poor Parker?

Won't you introduce me
to your friend?

POIROT:
Yes, of course, madame.

The sister of Dr. Sheppard --
Chief Inspector Japp

of Scotland Yard.

I thought it must be.
How exciting.

How do you do?

Mind you, I don't think
that Roger Ackroyd

ever knew about
Parker's drinking.

Something for you two sleuths
to think about, eh?

Excuse me.

-Madame.
-Bye!

Blimey!

Decidedly, it is time
for Poirot to act.

Merci.

Mademoiselle Ursula, rest here,
if you please.

Doctor, asseyez-vous la.

Thank you.

To begin with, I make

a special plea to you,
mademoiselle.

To me?

Oui.

If you know the whereabouts
of Monsieur Ralph Paton,

I beg of you most earnestly to
persuade him to come forward.

Monsieur Poirot, I swear
solemnly to you,

I have no idea where Ralph is.

I have neither seen him
nor heard of him

on the day
of the murder or since.

Bien!

That is that!

Now, you others, all of you were
friends and intimates

of Monsieur Ralph Paton.

If you know where the missing
man, he is hiding, speak out!

I beg of you, speak out.

Messieurs et mesdames,
I mean to arrive at the truth.

I mean to know,
and I shall know,

in spite of you all.

Thank you.

[Door opens]

Mister...?

POIROT:
Poirot, Madame Folliott.

Hercule Poirot.

FOLLIOTT: Ah.

A thousand apologies, madame,
for calling on you like this.

Not at all.

I have seen the references that
you were good enough to provide

for a former parlor maid
of yours,

a Mademoiselle Ursula Bourne.

Yes?

And it was
just over a year ago

since she left you,
I understand.

Yes.

Yes, it was.

That's quite right.

Hmm.

I was wondering
if there was anything more

you can tell me about her.

For example,
she comes from where?

-Her family --
-I don't know at all.

I see.

Then who was her employer
before she came to you?

I really don't remember.

Is it necessary
to ask all these questions?

Oh, no, no.

No, not at all, madame.
Pardon.

I did not think you would
object to answering.

Taxi!

The News Chronicle in Fleet
Street, s'il vous plait.

Yes, sir.

All right, all right,
you can put your watch away.

You know how the lateness,
it distresses me.

Mr. Hammond.

Good day to you,
Chief Inspector.

This is indeed a treat.
So much choice.

I'm staggered.

What did you discover
at the apartment

of Monsieur Paton?

Absolutely nothing.

A bed, a table, a chair.

Nobody's been there for a week.

Did you get for me the list
of nursing homes?

Merci.

JAPP: There's nothing
I can eat here, Poirot.

It's all macaroni this,
ravioli that.

Haven't they got any meat?

Spaghetti Bolognese has meat.

JAPP:
I don't like spaghetti.

Now then, Mr. Hammond.

We're going
to need your help.

As well as acting
for Mr. Roger Ackroyd,

you were also
Mrs. Dorothy Ferrars' solicitor,

we understand?

That is correct.

All her affairs
passed through our hands.

POIROT: You see,
Monsieur Hammond,

Monsieur Ackroyd
believed that Madame Ferrars,

she was being blackmailed.

And it is possible
that this blackmail

and the murder of Roger Ackroyd,
they might be connected.

Blackmail, eh?

-You are surprised?
-No.

No, it explains
a great many things.

During the past year,

Mrs. Ferrars
sold certain securities.

But the money was paid
into her account,

and not reinvested.

I've always imagined
that the money was being paid

to some woman who had a claim
on the late Mr. Ferrars.

And what was the amount
of this selling?

In all, I should say

the sums involved totaled
at least £20,000.

£20,000?

I could retire tomorrow and go
and live in the south of France.

No.

You would not approve
of the food, Chief Inspector.

Well, none of our merry band
of suspects

shows any sign of having come
into that kind of money.

Look, Poirot.
There's your old flat.

Who lives there now?

No person.
It is still mine.

-No!
-Oui.

I didn't know that.

Well, let's go
and have a look round.

No. In any case,
I do not have my keys.

Yes, you do.

I wondered why you wanted
to walk this way.

Come on.

Home, sweet home, eh, Poirot?

POIROT: Oui.

But it is full of ghosts.

Lively ones, too, some of 'em.

You know, Chief Inspector,
this visit to London?

It disturbs me.

And this...

[Laughs]

Even worse.

You were never meant to be
a country bumpkin, Poirot.

No, Chief Inspector, you must
not say such things!

The life in the country,
it is good for me.

I have the fresh air,
I have my garden...

the quiet.

You should never have retired.

I said so at the time,
if you remember.

POIROT: One cannot postpone
the inevitable forever,

Chief Inspector.

And this case, it is full
of postponements.

JAPP: Is it?

Oh, oui, bien sur.

Monsieur Roger Ackroyd
and Madame Ferrars,

they postponed the announcement
of their betrothal,

Monsieur Ralph Paton and
Mademoiselle Flora, the same.

I don't see where that gets us.

Non.
Moi aussi.

But one must permit

oneself to muse.

"From R, March 13th."

Perhaps Monsieur Roger Ackroyd
and Madame Ferrars,

they married in secret.

Why would they do that?

Or Ralph Paton
and Mademoiselle Flora,

the same.

JAPP: Well, that's more likely.

But why keep it secret?

Who else do we know
with the initial R?

What about Mr. Raymond?

Monsieur Raymond?
No.

I do not think that
Monsieur Raymond

is the marrying kind,
Chief Inspector.

JAPP: No.

You see, we do keep coming
back to Ralph Paton.

Of course, the ring might have
nothing to do with the case.

But I can't understand why
he doesn't come forward.

Has it not occurred to you,
Chief Inspector,

that Monsieur Ralph Paton,
he could be dead?

Dead?
No.

I hope not, for Flora Ackroyd's
sake, if nothing else.

What did you mean

the other day when you said
you didn't believe

she'd seen her uncle
at 10 past 10:00?

Allons-y, Chief Inspector.

We must catch the train.

I have also the need to escape
from these ghosts.

POIROT: "By now the cracks
were beginning to appear.

There are, I am ashamed
to say,

“certain darknesses
of the heart

of which even
I was not aware.

Who would have thought Miss
Goody-Two-Shoes Flora Ackroyd

capable of such naughtiness?"

JAPP: Now, Monsieur Poirot
has made

a certain suggestion to me,
Miss Ackroyd.

He suggests that you weren't
in the study at all

last Friday night, and that

you didn't see Mr. Ackroyd
to say good night to.

Parker saw me there.

No, mademoiselle.

Monsieur Parker said
that he saw you coming out.

You have no idea what my life

has been like
since we came here.

Wanting things, scheming
for them, lying and cheating.

Running up bills
and promising to pay --

I hate myself
when I think of it all.

That's what brought us together,
Ralph and I.

I understood him because
I'm the same underneath.

We're not strong enough to stand
alone, either of us.

All right.

I wasn't coming
out of the study.

I was in my uncle's room.

I knew he always kept some cash
in that drawer.

I was on the stairs coming down
from Uncle Roger's bedroom

when I heard Parker
crossing the hall.

So, I pretended that
I was leaving the study.

Parker.

Mr. Ackroyd says he doesn't
want to be disturbed.

Oh.

Very well, Miss Flora.

POIROT: Mademoiselle --

I took it, all right?!

£40!

I'm a common,
vulgar little thief!

Now you know!

POIROT: "Rule number one
in Kings Abbott --

never believe what
anyone tells you.

So what could the sleuths
do but start again?

Back they went
to Dorothy Ferrars' house

for another rummage through
her sad existence.

She really was the cause
of all this fuss."

Madame Ferrars had been your
patient for many years, James.

Had she seemed to you
recently distressed?

SHEPPARD: She was a very
sensitive person, you know.

Not many people understood her.

But, uh, you did.

She confided in me
to a limited extent.

Excuse me.

Madame Ferrars,
she wrote many letters?

No, I don't think so.

Her only relatives
were in New Zealand.

Oh.

Bonjour, madame.

Have you seen this?

Good morning, Chief Inspector.

What?

Oh.
Good morning.

Listen.

"The police have for some days
been anxious

to interview Mr. Ralph Paton,

the adopted son
of Mr. Roger Ackroyd,

whose death occurred

in suspicious circumstances
last Friday.

Mr. Paton has now been arrested
in Liverpool,

where he was on the point
of embarking for America."

Bon.

Bon?
What do you mean, Bon?

It's all rubbish.
I've been onto Liverpool.

They don't know
anything about it.

No, they would not, mon ami.

It was me who persuaded
the editor

of that estimable newspaper
to insert the item.

Well, we'll see
if you're right, Poirot.

See if your newspaper article

has flushed anybody
out of the woodwork.

Can woodwork be flushed,
Chief Inspector?

You know what I mean.

Well, if they can be flushed,

then this will have
flushed them.

[Doorbell buzzes]

I'm sorry.
Have you been waiting ages?

We're at sixes and sevens.

What with Parker not here,
and Ursula not being well --

She is unwell?

RAYMOND: I say unwell,

but she just won't
come out of her room.

You can hear her,
crying away.

Merci.

[Ursula crying]

Go away!

Can we have a word, Miss Bourne?

URSULA: Go away.
I don't want to see you.

Mrs. Paton?

It is me, Hercule Poirot.

There's no point in pretending
anymore, is there?

The paper says Ralph
has been arrested.

POIROT: The truth is what
we need, madame.

Ralph didn't do it.

In verity, I am inclined
to agree with you,

but the affair marches badly.

Only the truth can save
Monsieur Paton now.

So, first, tell to us
why you make this masquerade

as a parlor maid?

For a living.

My father died two years ago,
leaving nothing but debts.

Debts and five daughters.

My eldest sister
was already married

to a Captain Folliott.

Oui.
I met your sister yesterday.

I wasn't going to be
a lady parlor maid.

It was the real thing
or nothing.

And my sister
would give me a reference.

So, you got a job here.

URSULA: Yes.

Actually,
I quite enjoyed the work.

And I met Ralph.

As soon as we met,
we both felt the same.

We wanted to get married.

Oui.

On the 13th of March.

My ring!

I thought I'd lost it forever.

How?
Where did you --

Please to continue, madame.

Well, we...um,

we got married,
and then I came back here,

and Ralph stayed in London
looking for work.

But then he decided that
the only way to clear his debts

was to ask Mr. Ackroyd for help.

Still without disclosing
to him your marriage.

Yes.

Mr. Ackroyd was furious.

But he said he'd help if Ralph
married Flora Ackroyd.

-And he agreed?
-Yes.

But he did make the stipulation

that it shouldn't be announced
for a while.

He didn't want me
to hear about it.

I'll bet he didn't.

But then, last Thursday,
Mr. Ackroyd got impatient

and said the engagement had
to be announced that weekend.

So, Ralph had to tell me
the mess he was in.

It's quite on the cards
the old man

will cut me off
with a shilling.

URSULA: I said I would see
Mr. Ackroyd,

and tell him we were married.

Ralph begged me not to,
but what else was I to do?

I was so furious with Ralph
that on my way home,

I threw away my wedding ring.

I regretted it

almost as soon
as I'd done it, but...

I thought Mr. Ackroyd
might have been sympathetic,

but he was awful.

He said I'd tried to trap
Ralph for his money.

Already married?!

Anyway, I'd agreed to meet Ralph
that evening in the summer house

to tell him how it had gone.

I met him at 9:30...
and that was awful.

-You've ruined everything!
-I have every right.

I'm your wife!

POIROT:
You also tore your apron.

URSULA: Oh.

I wondered where I'd done that.

Anyway, I -- I haven't heard
or seen Ralph since.

And then I heard that
Mr. Ackroyd had been murdered.

Oui.

Tell us, Madame Paton,
what hour was it that you

parted from your husband
in the summer house?

You think I haven't gone over
that again and again?

I was with Ralph
for 10 minutes?

Not longer.

It was just quarter to 10:00
when I got back to the house.

Ah, there you are,
Monsieur Poirot.

I was just trying to find you.

There's a phone call for you.

-For me?
-Yes.

Poirot.

Ah.

Mr. Smith.

I thought that
I would find you here.

POIROT: "So now will come
the biggest test.

We have all been summoned
to a pow-wow.

But I'm sure the police
are still in the dark.

If we all hold our nerve,

they won't get any more
secrets out of us.

But there is always
a weak link, isn't there?"

No, no, no, no, no, no,
Caroline!

I'm not going to pander
to your mere inquisitiveness.

Oh, come on, James.
Don't be a meanie.

No, Caroline!

Poirot said
just those people he named.

Well, I'll just drive you
up there then, that's all.

Hercule won't mind.
I don't have to come in.

Well!

I don't see why we have
to be at his beck and call.

Ah, Chief Inspector.

You are so kind.

Please to place it here.

No, no, no, no.

Voila.

Observe.

Ah, come in, come in, please.
All of you.

It is so good of you to come.

Please, entrez, entrez.

Make yourselves comfortable.

Monsieur Raymond,
if you please, do remain.

-Oh. Me, too?
-Oui.

What's the great idea?
Some scientific machine?

Do we have electrodes
on our knees

to register guilty knocking?

No, Monsieur Raymond.
I am old-fashioned.

I work only
with my little gray cells.

Please to sit.

Ah, my dear, good Dr. James.

Welcome to you.
Please to sit.

You know, of course,
Chief Inspector Japp.

Good evening.

Bon.

So...now let us begin.

But first, I have
an announcement to make.

This young lady,
Mademoiselle Ursula Bourne,

is in reality
Madame Ralph Paton.

Oh, yes.

She married Ralph Paton
last March.

MRS. ACKROYD: Ralph?

Married?
[Laughs]

How could he be?

Oh, shut up, Mother!

You and Ralph
kept your secret

very well.

I'm very glad for you.

Well, that's very kind.

Ralph behaved so badly,
especially to you.

He was in a corner
and took the only way out.

I should have probably done
the same myself, in his place.

Each person here
had both the motive

and the opportunity to kill
Monsieur Roger Ackroyd,

and, because he knew too much,
Monsieur Parker.

Madame Ralph Paton might well
have hoped to clarify

her own situation, if the uncle
of Mademoiselle Flora

did not exert pressure
on her to marry Ralph Paton.

Monsieur Raymond
resented the unwillingness

of Monsieur Roger Ackroyd

to grant him more authority
in the factory.

And, of course, Madame Ackroyd

and Mademoiselle Flora
both hoped to profit

from the will
of Monsieur Ackroyd.

I don't like this.

I'd much prefer to go home.

You cannot, madame,
until you have heard

what Poirot has to say.

Please to sit.

Merci, madame.

The problem has always
been one of time.

We know that
Monsieur Roger Ackroyd

was alive
at half past 9:00,

because it was then that

Monsieur Raymond
overheard him talking.

But with whom was he talking?

Certainly, it was not
to Monsieur Ralph Paton,

whom we know was at the time in
the summer house with his wife.

So, with whom?

From the very beginning
of this case,

I have been troubled
by one thing --

the nature of those words spoken
by Monsieur Roger Ackroyd

and overheard
by Monsieur Raymond.

"The calls on my purse have been
so frequent of late

that it is impossible for me
to accede to your request."

Eh bien.

Does nothing odd
strike you about that?

It sounds more as if he's
dictating a letter.

Exactement.

A Dictaphone.
Is that what you think?

But it doesn't change anything.

Mr. Ackroyd was alive at 9:30,

since he was speaking
into his Dictaphone.

But always we come back
to Monsieur Ralph Paton.

As I have said, we know that

he was in the summer house
with Madame Paton.

But then suddenly, poof!
He disappears.

Where?

He has fled the country,
perhaps?

Or perhaps he has become
the third victim

of our murderer.

No!

Or perhaps,

someone is helping him to
conceal himself from the police.

But who and where?

A hotel?

No.
Far too public.

A boarding house?

No, no, no, certainment.
The same.

I have it.

The private nursing home.

Chief Inspector Japp
made inquiries

and discovered that
there were in the area

two nursing homes.

And at one of them,

there had been admitted early
on Saturday morning a certain...

Mr. Smith.

But Ralph would never run away!

We can ask Mr. Smith himself.

RAYMOND: Ralph!

Oh, Ralph!

But I ask myself,
I wonder who it is

who gave authority
to the nursing home

for the admission
of Monsieur Ralph Paton?

[Laughs]

All right, Poirot.

Mea culpa.

As soon as I heard

that Ralph was back
in Kings Abbott

and staying at the White Hart,

I knew something must be wrong.

I went to see him
that afternoon.

Eventually, he told me
about his marriage

and the hole he was in.

There didn't seem
to be anything

I could do to help
at the time,

but that night, when
the murder was discovered,

I knew that suspicion

would fall on him.

Or, if not on him,
on the girl he loved.

And the thought of his possibly
having to give evidence

that might incriminate
his wife...

My dear James, have I not told
to you 36 times,

it is impossible to conceal
anything from Hercule Poirot?

[Laughs]

POIROT: I know precisely who
murdered Monsieur Roger Ackroyd

and pauvre Monsieur Parker
and how it was done.

And this...

tells to me all.

RAYMOND: What is it?

POIROT: It is a wireless message

from a steamer on her way
to the United States.

And tomorrow, the good
Chief Inspector Japp

will make his arrest.

MRS. ACKROYD:
What a ridiculous exercise!

I have never seen anything

more pointless
in my entire life!

That wretched little man!
Really!

JAPP:
Now, look here, Poirot.

If you really know who committed
this murder...

Both of the murders,
Chief Inspector.

Yes, I do.

Well, who is it?

Can you tell us?

POIROT: Poirot shall not make
things easy for you.

You, Chief Inspector,
with your career of detection

both long and distinguished,
you have your theories, I know.

And you, my dear James, you have
been involved in the case

from the beginning,
n'est-ce pas?

You know intimately
all of the people involved,

as only
the good country doctor can.

But, before I reveal my secret,

you must both expound
your theories to me.

And let us commence with you,
James.

SHEPPARD: Me?

[Laughs] Oh, no.

I can't show myself up in front

of the professionals.

[Door opens]

I got so fed up
with waiting in the car.

Are you going
to be much longer, James?

No, no.
Maybe I ought to call it a day.

POIROT: No, my dear James.

Madame, your brother

was just going to tell us
his theories about the murderer.

Please to come and sit.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

POIROT: Merci.

So, James, tell us,

what sort of man or woman

are we looking for?

SHEPPARD: Woman?
[Laughs]

I hardly think
it could be a woman.

And this man, was he also,
do you think, the blackmailer?

Oh, I think he probably

had some sort
of financial arrangement

with Mrs. Ferrars, yes.

Somehow, certainly,
he became aware

of the true cause
of Ashley Ferrars' death.

He could even be a detective.

But perhaps, as a doctor,
you would have been

also situated most ideally,
n'est-ce pas?

[Laughs] Oh, ideally.

But the important moment
in this case is not the murder

of Ashley Ferrars,
but the suicide of his widow.

Her motives remain unclear,
but, for whatever reason,

she decided to end her life.

Now, this must have
placed our murderer

in something of a quandary.

He knew about her rather
distasteful affair

with Roger Ackroyd.

His difficulty
was in knowing whether,

before she died, she had
confided in him the identity

of the man with whom she had
the financial arrangement.

You mean, the blackmailer.

This was hardly some common
blackmailer, Chief Inspector.

He probably

saw Roger Ackroyd
somewhere about this time,

and something in Ackroyd's
manner made him wonder.

And, in that moment, he decided

he could not take a chance.

He was certainly capable
of constructing

some sort of device

to turn a Dictaphone on and off
at any time he chose.

I don't imagine he'd left
the choice of weapon

as much to chance
as it would appear.

I believe he had a weapon
with him already...

when it occurred to him
that the dagger,

which was actually on display
at the scene of the crime,

would cast the net of suspicion
even wider.

He was all ready
to perform the killing,

when he had confirmation

of his deepest fear.

PARKER:
The evening post, sir.

Mrs. Ferrars had indeed
confided in Ackroyd,

but not in person --

she had written him a letter.

And Ackroyd opened that letter
in his presence,

and started to read it.

"My dear,

my very dear Roger,
I would not tell you the name

this afternoon but I propose
to write it to you now."

I'm sorry, but I --

I must read this on my own.

At least tell me
the name of the man.

No, no.
I must read it on my own.

SHEPPARD: Very well.

[Takes out knife]

Ahh!

And in that letter,
Madame Ferrars

had named the blackmailer,
had she not?

I've been reading this book
I found in the car, James.

It wasn't blackmail!

Don't say any more, James.

POIROT:
Oh, come now, James.

The man had bled
Madame Ferrars white!

Dorothy Ferrars was an
adulterous, murdering bitch!

She lorded it over us.

All the money she had --
she never worked for it,

nor did her drunk
of a husband before her.

They were idle,
useless parasites.

-Stop it, James.
-No!

They didn't know

what it was like, scrimping
and saving, year after year,

never able to afford
a holiday,

on call day and night

to every idiot with a bilious
attack for miles around.

You've no right to stand
in judgment on me.

Blackmail, you call it?
Blackmail?

The law wouldn't punish her,
would they?

So I did.

Well...

there you are.

I've done your work for you.

Sorry, Caro.

Killing Ackroyd was easy.

The knife was sharp and I knew
just where to strike.

ACKROYD: [Gagging]

And for the rest, I simply

had to follow my plan.

The first thing to do was make
sure everyone remembered me

leaving the house.

I'll just go and say good night
to the ladies.

Yes, sir.

I drove away, but parked the car
a little way down the drive.

Then I had to make it look
as if Ralph Paton

had entered through the window.

He was a pathetic,

profligate fellow.

I knew Ackroyd
had bought a Dictaphone

and had been using it.

Now I was going to use it,

to arrange for Ackroyd
to speak from the grave.

And then,
the business of the chair,

which so intrigued you all.

I'd left Ralph Paton's
muddy shoe outside

when I entered
through the window.

Now, as I made my escape,

I was able to use it to make
a footprint on the sill.

And then, of course,
the Dictaphone did its work.

"I'm greatly impressed
by your persistence

and determination;

however, I regret to say
that the calls on my purse

have been
so frequent of late..."

POIROT: Which convinces us
that Monsieur Roger Ackroyd

was alive at half past 9:00,
by which time

you were safely
back at home, awaiting...

Hello, Dr. Sheppard.

POIROT:
...the telephone call

from the patient whom you had
persuaded to take part

in what you had told him
was a practical joke.

Yes.

You did well there, Poirot.

I was quite surprised
when you showed us your telegram

from the ocean liner.

Well done.

Thank you.

SHEPPARD: I needed the excuse
of his phone call,

you see, to ensure that
I was the first on the scene

when the murder was discovered.

Police, sir?

What's the matter with you,
Parker?

If your master
has been murdered...

Murdered, sir?

No. The fewer people disturb
this room, the better.

I'd carefully calculated
the position of the chair

so that the Dictaphone
would be hidden

from anyone standing
in the doorway.

Ring the police station, Parker.

When I'd sent Parker to
telephone for the police,

I had ample time to remove
my contrivance

and put the chair
back in its accustomed place.

Finally,

I had to tell Ralph Paton
of his uncle's murder,

persuade him that
he was in danger,

and get him to accompany me
to the nursing home.

Why did you kill Parker?

Parker was too observant.

He remembered

that he'd brought
in five letters, not four,

and that one of them was
handwritten on dark-blue paper.

He knew he hadn't
moved the chair.

How long would it be

before he realized I had?

No.
I couldn't take that chance.

CAROLINE: James, your journal.

JAPP: James Sheppard,

I am arresting
you for the murder

of Roger Ackroyd.

Of course you are,
Chief Inspector.

James, no.
This is foolish!

Don't move, either of you.

Are you all right,
Chief Inspector?

Stop!

Come on, Poirot!

Japp!

That's three.

Get back, Poirot!

James, no!

Don't make me, then!

JAPP: Plenty of time for heroics
when he runs out of ammo.

That's five.
One more to go.

No!

CAROLINE: James!

No!

POIROT: For the sake
of the sister of Dr. Sheppard,

the true stories of these
murders most dreadful

must, for the moment,
remain a secret.

A last favor, if you will,

to a man I once
looked on as a friend.

I thought I could escape
the wickedness of the city

by moving to the country.

The fields that are green,
the singing of the birds,

the faces,
smiling and friendly.

Huh!

The fields that are green
are the secret burial places

of the victims of murders
most hideous.

The birds sing only briefly

before some idiot in tweeds
shoots them.

And the faces all smiling
and friendly --

what do they conceal?

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