All language subtitles for Nicolas.Le.Floch.S01E02.The.Man.with.the.Lead.Stomach.Part.2.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-playWEB

THE BLANCS-MANTEAUX ENIGMA

Part Two

You had a close call.

Your head was on the pavement.

Had you not been wearing
your three-cornered hat,

your equally thick Breton skull
would have been split open.

By Jove,
I must be seriously hurt

if you have come to my bedside.

It is an annoyance, Nicolas,

particularly as my insincerity
is partly to blame.

Yet you have less to fear
than the king.

At last!

You have agreed at last
to enlighten me.

Commissaire Lardin pressured me.

I shall spare you the details
and get to the heart of the matter.

Upon the death
of a foreign dignitary,

an inventory of his belongings
was made.

I shall tell you
neither who nor what.

However, during the inventory,
which took place in his jurisdiction,

Commissaire Lardin intercepted
several letters.

They are
extremely compromising for the king

and could be harmful
to the security of the kingdom.

That is why you promoted him
as chief of the gambling police.

A fox minding geese...

It hardly kept Lardin from ruin.

Make no mistake, Nicolas.

Whatever he would lose,
he'd gain elsewhere.

He ran a rigged faro table
at the Dauphin Couronn�.

- Yet you stood idly by?
- He held me and the king in a vice!

He didn't lose,

and yet his house is empty,

run by but a few servants.

Where did his winnings go, then?

Now that Lardin has vanished,
who has a grip on you now?

To my knowledge,
no one has come forward yet.

Lardin might have taken
certain precautions.

The idea of these letters falling
into enemy hands worries me greatly.

This is why I am ordering you

to seize them,

by any means available
and with all haste.

Does your head still ache?

Perfect.

You can easily imagine
the anguish I feel

at the thought of the king's peril.

Glad to see you alive, sir.

Lardin has a strange house
with odd comings and goings.

His wife went out and came back
several times.

A ruffian left twice,
though he'd not been seen entering.

Two other men, too,
from out of nowhere.

What did they look like?

One is a great gangling fellow,
scary looking.

Like a German mercenary.

The other one was stocky
and wrapped himself in a dark cloak.

But nothing can hide his wooden leg.

A wooden leg?

My God, my friend!
Your face is as pale as Death's.

What sort of trouble are you in?

It is less worrisome than yours,
Scemacgus.

I have no reason to complain.

My accommodations are more pleasant
than others' here.

I've warm clothes.
The food is good. Drink is plenty.

In r�sum�, I only lack freedom.

Would you be my guest, my friend?

What do you know of the Lardin case?

Nothing to interest justice.

What can you say
of Saint-Louis, your driver?

Nothing, alas.
There is my main worry.

To tell you the truth,
I fear the worst.

You should fear for yourself,
Scemacgus.

You are suspected
of murdering Commissaire Lardin.

On what grounds?

Your carnal relations
with Lady Lardin.

- Ridiculous!
- For the same reason,

along with others
which made you find him hateful,

you are suspected of murdering
Dr Descare.

Equally ridiculous!

Descare! Who would have thought
of putting an end to such a life?

In either case,
you might have had help

from hands as powerful as your own,

by a man able to help you
accomplish your dreadful task.

Saint-Louis, right?

Your coachman and your cabriolet
vanished shortly before Lardin did.

You reappeared
quite late the following day.

I was at the Basse-Ge�le!
You saw me there.

A judge might see this
as a clever criminal's attempt

to build an alibi
on the testimony of the investigator.

Nicolas, do you believe me capable
of such knavery?

I am not asked to think but to prove.

My friend, this case goes beyond
what either of us can imagine.

My friend, I beg you,
allow me to save you.

Tell me what you insist on hiding
with such foolish obstinacy!

I have nothing to say.

As I've told you,
I took no part in these crimes

and have no idea who committed them.

In that case, sir,

I cannot envy you your fate.

Commissaire Lardin
used your home

for his rigged gaming table,
unbeknownst to me.

Commissaire Lardin had the backing
of Mr de Sartine.

In secret, he showed me orders
from the Lt. General of the police

naming him as gaming police chief.
I couldn't oppose him.

Did that then include allowing him
to run a rigged table?

This note you penned...

shows you invited Lardin
to a midnight repast during Carnaval.

Don't deny it.
I found it in his doublet.

You might be charged
as an accomplice to murder.

It was in your home, your invitation,
that he met his murderer.

Who had you write this note, madame?

Commissaire Lardin did.

He also enjoined me to write
two others.

One to Dr Descare

and the other
to your dear friend Scemacgus.

Furthermore,
Commissaire Lardin ordered

the capes and masks

designed to conceal
his and his guests' identity.

The capes,
as is the case with your suit,

were made by Vachon.

My gruel will be light fare, Nicolas.

But I hope the sight of your appetite

will satisfy
my own vain expectations.

So, how is your friend Scemacgus?

Is he being held
on the order of Mr de Sartine?

Fine for a man about to be put
to the question for refusing to talk.

Put to the question?

If he remains mute,
he most certainly will be.

The famous letters reportedly
held by Commissaire Lardin...

The consternation of the king

is fueling his dark melancoly

and his thorough disgust
with mankind.

I find something curious.

You are a man who is aware

of all things
in the court and the city.

Why would you impute
the late Dr Descare with Jansenism?

That faithless, lawless charlatan!
What makes you think that?

His credenza has
an incongruous addition: a Christ.

In that case, Nicolas, you must
suspect me of Jansenism, too.

Come.

Your cabinet of curiosities.

The same one.

Descare has an identical statue.

- Where did you get it?
- An unknown courier

brought it to me
as an addition to my curiosities.

The piece is remarkable.

It's rather original craftsmanship.

Who gave it to you?

As anonymous
as the lad who brought it in.

As I have little regard
for these sorts of tragic figures,

I've left it there in the corner.
There was a note attached.

I put it in this drawer,
I do believe.

Indeed.

"Closed no more, they will open
And pour out their words.

Lardin.

Madame, I must speak with him.

Where is your husband?

Quite certainly in Hell by now.

What makes you think
it might be otherwise?

Your husband didn't lose in gambling.

Your apparent financial ruin
was likely planned

so he could disappear,
and then you, as well.

You're raving mad, sir.

So, then,

if he is in Hell,
he may as well stay there.

- You're in a church!
- You and I

want the same thing.

The same thing.

Those letters, madame.
The letters which your husband

cared about so greatly.

Let us join together
instead of fighting each other.

Nicolas!
Are you now acting out of greed?

A paragon of integrity,
as my husband called you.

Your integrity made him
suspicious of you.

You, who appeared
to be totally disinterested in money?

He also thought me
totally disinterested in women.

You and I, however, know differently.

You've lost none
of your magic, madame.

Indeed, sir. Indeed.

But I don't believe
in late-in-life conversions.

How entirely regrettable
for you, then.

We've little time.

Put your mind at ease,

neither the ravages of time or of men
have dimmed your resplendent beauty,

which has been heightened
by the fineries of widowhood.

Did you obtain the consolation
you sought

in your faith and prayers?

Some consolations are less sure.

Austerity does not suit you.

I had no idea you were so prudish.

You didn't learn it
plying your trade at Madame Paulet's.

You are a whore, madame,
and I'll use you as such!

You generally do not detest it.

Then you'll have to pay me dearly.
The price has gone up since then.

Get out before I get an inkling
to jab this right in your heart.

Did the viper strike at last?

Did Mrs Lardin tell you
she got visits

from the Holy Spirit
and the commissaire today?

I expect this news is worth
a few coins, my lord.

Rapace also deserves
your consideration, my lord.

My faithful helper has deep affection
for your person.

Two men alone
are worth more than one alone.

A duo is a rarity these days.

There are two of them.
One is called Rapace.

He's an ex-soldier
who walked away from his regiment

and became a butcher
as it happened.

The other one, Bricart,

was a gunner in the navy.

He boasts
that he can break chains bare-fisted

as easily as he can strangle an ox
with his bare hands.

- He'll do fine.
- You can't miss him.

He lost a leg
in a battle against the English,

and wears a wooden peg.

Excellent.

Where can I find them?

They can be found every evening
in a disreputable public house

near the Sainte-Catherine cemetery.

I advise you not to go there

without a very stalwart
and determined

backup squad.

I need you, Bourdeau.
Our goal is in sight.

Do you believe in omens, inspector?

No more than you do, commissaire.

The place you were told about is
at the corner of two cemetery walls.

We should have warned
the patrolmen.

We cannot, Bourdeau.
We must use stealth.

Wait here for our scoundrels.

Keep to the shadows.

There they are.

I'd have preferred to do this
with the help of fellow officers!

At two against two
in a surprise attack,

we'll likely get the best of them.

Look out, sir!

Jardi�, the rascal got it good!

These lead-filled crutches
can crack open a head!

We'll work his friend over
until he tells us

what we want to hear.

That's Scemacgus's cabriolet.

Well now, Commissaire,

I have something to make you chat.

Sensitive, are we?

Tie him up, Rapace. Make him talk
before I make him bleed!

Easy does it, laddie. Easy!

Believe me, my angel,
yours is now a hopeless case.

Let me hear that voice a little
before I cut your throat out.

On my orders, all ye Saint-Roch boys!

They've opened the gates of Hell!

- So, it's you then?
- It is, sir.

Do not worry, sir,
we won't hurt him as badly

as he and his fellows hurt
the children they capture.

They kidnap children
and sell them.

- Let us have him.
- I can't.

He's at the heart
of a major investigation.

I've never seen such ferocity.

Bourdeau, bind his hands.

Have him taken away promptly.

Midday or midnight?

Midnight seems more plausible to me.

- Who ordered you to set this ambush?
- I shall say nothing.

And you can't do much to make me.

Only putting you to the question.

I can prove, however,

quite rapidly,

that you were present at a site
where human remains were dumped.

At Montfaucon.
I can also prove

that you were at Dr Descare's
just prior to his death.

I can also prove you frequented
Madame Paulet's

and even went into her apartment.

Bricart, step on it!

Come on,
put all your weight onto it.

Come now, Bricart!

Proof positive, Bricart.

Who ordered you to do this?

On the night of Carnaval...

a stranger introduced us
to three masks.

One of the three ordered
the death of a man.

Commissaire Lardin's.

- I didn't know that.
- Did you kill him?

No!

All we were to do

was dismember the body

and take the remains
along Montfaucon road,

with his bludgeon
and his personal belongings.

It was the Negro who killed him.

The Negro?

The Negro.

The coachman did him in
on the orders of his master

because the man was making trouble
over some love affair.

Naturally, you can't tell me more
about the three masks.

Too bad, but you will talk,
once you're put to the question.

Now that I think about it...

I believe I recognized...

from among the others,
a woman's voice.

A woman's voice?

Commissaire,

the lieutenant general wishes
to see you in his office immediately.

There is a rumour
that the commissaire's death

should now be called
the Lardin letter scandal.

The secret that we strove to keep
is now out.

If it so happened that the kindness
I oddly showed Lardin

were to be revealed,

my position would become untenable.

My position would become untenable

and so would yours,
being more precarious and less sure.

Everyone is aware
you are under my orders.

The royal police would be taken over
by incompetents and schemers,

leaving the monarch exposed.

Take some time off, commissaire,
for tomorrow...

Tomorrow?

We've no time for prevaricating.

It is in everyone's interest

to act quickly

without getting sidetracked
uselessly.

You have a suspect,
the naval surgeon.

Scemacgus?

I want him put to the question
first thing tomorrow morning.

Given the gravity of this case,

commissaire,
I expect you to be present

during Sanson the executioner's
operations.

You're to take notes of every detail

and of the result.

I shall not bid you good night.
You may leave now, sir.

Can't you sleep?

You're terribly gloomy.

and seem burdened
by a heavy, gnawing pain.

What can I do for you
that I haven't already done?

I fear there is nothing you can do.

Have you ever reflected
on the strange and grievous threads

in the weave of our lives?

I try to avoid it, madame.

A man whose friendship I cherish
will be put to the question tomorrow.

Tomorrow?

I mean in a while,
as morning has now dawned.

A man who loves me
like a younger brother...

and I can do nothing to save him.

Oh, sir, I fear for your life!

We've looked everywhere for you!
Bricart is dead.

The jailer found him at dawn,
on the floor of his cell,

already cold and stiff as a tax.
- How could it be?

I don't know. I've had the body
carried to the Basse-Ge�le,

and enjoined Sanson to proceed
with opening it.

How is Scemacgus?

Your friend Scemacgus
is doing very well.

He had a hearty breakfast
this morning.

The question, right?

For the last time, sir,
I beg you to tell me all you know.

I can say nothing other than

that I swear I am innocent
of the charges laid against me.

The rest, you may perhaps hear
during my conversation with Sanson.

Should matters take a bad turn,
I promise...

Promise nothing.

Nothing, my friend,
that you cannot hold to.

My hands tremble, see?

But neither my heart nor my spirit.

Come now, sir,
let's not look so glum.

After all, you're not the one
who will be tortured.

For the last time...

I can see
the hard-headed Breton that you are!

Do you recognize this?

Without the slightest doubt.
That is my watch.

- Where did you find it?
- In your cabriolet

on the cushions
still spattered with blood.

It was in a barn
being used by ruffians.

One of them accuses you
of ordering Lardin's murder.

It was my watch, I should say.

I gave it to my driver Saint-Louis,
the day I set him free.

I gave him it so he could manage
his time as a free man.

Saint-Louis?

This man did not die
of natural causes.

He was beaten repeatedly
by blunt instruments.

I'll take this as evidence.

One of the blows broke his ribs.

Racked by so much pain,
he probably did not notice.

One move sufficed to cause a rib
to puncture a lung.

The large quantity of blood
caused his death.

You're not to blame.
Death was already at his door.

The time has come.

Not quite yet, sir!

I'd like us to have

another look at the remains
of the man known as Lardin.

The bone fracture you see here

is one that I myself set.

These remains

are not Commissaire Lardin's,
they are my driver's.

Poor Saint-Louis' remains.
Take a look there.

See the black smudge.

He was named for his birth place,
but Saint-Louis was a Muslim.

He always shaved his head,

save one lock atop his skull

which his god could grab

the day of his death.

Old �milie saw a light being lit
and something burning.

Commissaire Lardin was bald
beneath his wig.

To pass this body off as Lardin's,

that feature had to be rubbed out.

'Tis odd, my faithful friend,

that though Death
has struck you dumb,

still you silently give witness
to my innocence.

Not quite, Scemacgus.

This temporarily delays
the excruciating torture

of the question.
Go back to your cell.

I'll go back to my investigation.

So, Lardin isn't Lardin.

No.

Lardin is not Lardin.

It reinforces your initial suspicion
that he isn't dead.

No, Bourdeau.

Alas, it doesn't.

Two facts contradict you.
The inhuman interrogation

that Dr Descare was subjected to
prior to his death,

and then, there is the harsh way
his office was searched.

If Lardin were alive,

why would he need to search out

what he had so carefully hidden?

What might Lardin have concealed
so carefully?

Letters.

Neither of us will ever know

their content,
even if we manage to seize them.

These letters could determine
the king's security

as well as Scemacgus's fate.

A note for Mr Le Floch.

A note from a lady,
whose resplendent beauty

was enhanced
by her somber and elegant attire,

and who instantly stole away.

"You know when and where."

The noose is tightening, madame.
The noose is tightening on you.

The corpse found in Montfaucon
was not your husband's.

- See, I can be fair-play.
- You cannot, sir!

Tell me the truth!

The truth as well as the name
of the man forcing your hand!

Anything that clears Scemacgus!

In exchange, once the path is clear,
I will give you what you seek.

You can then negotiate
at the highest level.

Have you found out then?

Yes, without much difficulty.

Well then, madame?

Well then, sir.

Wait no longer
to produce the letters.

You've little room to maneuver.

You lack one clue
that only I can provide.

I am willing to trade it,

otherwise I should be forced
to destroy it.

Marie Lardin, sir,

for whom you've long had
a constant and deep affection.

If I were you,
I wouldn't hesitate for a second!

As the saying goes,
"Innocence has no price."

Don't think you've won!

I haven't finished with you!

Commissaire,
to what do I owe your visit?

Can you explain the cause
of your agitation?

Pressing reasons, too long to list.

I'm all ears, sir.
Make it quick and exact, please.

Our goal is in sight.
You must hand me a warrant

to conduct a house search.

This sounds quite important.
Whose house?

- Madame Lardin's, sir.
- Good gods!

Madame Lardin's?

I shall grant you this whim.

Nevertheless...

This antique measures out
one full day.

I shall give you
not a fraction of another instant

to carry out my instructions
and to put Scemacgus to the question.

The dandy claims he has found
what we are looking for.

I do not believe his claims
anymore than you.

Needless to say, he seems most upset

to hear that we hold the damsel.

Go to where she is being held.

You will personally keep watch
over her.

I've had less agreeable tasks.

Well then, Mauval, wait no longer
to obey me.

Nicolas.

Later, madame!

Spare me a moment!
Innocence is at sake!

What innocence?

I was granted foster care
of a young novice

who recently entered
the Dauphin Couronn�.

While I rarely feel remorse,
I am capable of pity.

Be concise, please.

The poor despairing girl refused
to hear my reasons.

But after Madame Paulet
roughed her up a bit,

she revealed to me her first name.

She mentioned you and begged me
to seek out your help.

- What is her name?
- Marie.

Marie?

You asked for me, sir?

Yes. For an urgent mission
that will require the entire force.

Round up all available policemen.

You, madame, with sword?

My station allows me to,
as does yours.

In some traverses,
having a fine blade is recommended,

particularly a sharp one,
unless you're a fool.

I was helpless.
The man held me.

- Who?
- Mauval, Mrs Lardin's henchman.

- And the girl?
- Down below,

in a cellar with that man.

Be careful, sir.

Mauval is dangerous.
Commissaire Lardin never trusted him.

He should have been more cautious.
I do not fear him.

I saw you were at pains to conclude
several times, there.

Your precautions
nearly cost you your life.

I needed him alive, madame!

Sweet, dear Nicolas!

"Relentlessly sought out
have they been."

"Each one will return to the king."

Do not be offended, madame.

Mauval, your accomplice, is dead.

I have a proper warrant
from Mr de Sartine

to search your house
from top to bottom.

In fact, my men are already at it.

We found him in a passageway
running from the cellar

to a nearby garden beyond the walls.

Come, madame! Come pay one last visit
to your late husband!

Forgive me for rushing you,
but this is urgent.

It is quite all right.

As I rarely have the chance
to enjoy air outside the jail

I daresay I savour each one!

Well, madame,
is this not your handiwork?

My handiwork?
You shall have to prove it!

Lock her up at Le Ch�telet now!

Throw her in a cell.

We can now explain
the mysterious comings and goings.

A sliver of a passage begins here

and leads out to a garden
on the Rue des Blancs-Manteaux,

where a man I had been following
mysteriously vanished.

Rats have eaten the flesh,
thus facilitating my examination.

We have here a shoulder blade.
Notice the gash.

It could only have been inflicted
by a hefty blow from a good sword.

The sword was thrust into the victim
already on his back.

Per your order,
Mrs Lardin is in a dank, dark cell,

propitious to meditation
and introspection.

Darkness, decaying straw,
and scampering rats

have a sobering effect.

I'm at a loss to make this out.

One thing is certain: the same hand
penned all three notes.

It was Commissaire Lardin.
I assisted him often enough

to recognize his handwriting
without a shadow of a doubt.

Two of these notes
were attached to the crucifixes.

One went to Mr de Noblecourt,
the other went to Dr Descare.

The third was sent
by Commissaire Lardin

to his own daughter,
instructed to remit it to me,

in the event of misfortune.

Look, Bourdeau.

Do you see it?
We have an acrostic here.

What do you read, Bourdeau?

- "Descare."
- Descare, indeed.

It is the clue we've needed
to finish our work.

What do we know
about Lardin's will?

Nothing.
Despite my insistent requests,

his notary is as silent as the grave.

I am a notary, Commissaire.

As such, it is my duty
to respect utter discretion,

even when speaking to
one of the king's officers.

I can hardly imagine an argument
that would convince me

to give you what I obstinately denied
your subordinate.

I see but one that would force you:

the question.

I'm listening.

Dr Descare's last wishes
were particular

but not at all controversial.

He wanted official papers
to be in my possession

so he could bequeath all his fortune,
monies, buildings, furnishings,

not to his old cousin, Louise Lardin,

but to the youngest known heir,
one Marie Lardin.

Could Mr Lardin have been aware
of this arrangement?

It benefited his daughter.

How can you explain
Descare's extravagence

toward a young distant relation?

Marie Lardin was born by a first wife
who died in childbirth.

Although Lardin ignored it,

and loved the girl,
and showed her touching affection,

she had not been sired by him
but by Dr Descare.

Sir, I wish to protest
your henchmen's methods and manners,

and proclaim my innocence!

Generally speaking,
I rarely believe in innocence,

especially bedecked
with the fineries of crime.

Begin, commissaire.

I'll be brief,
although the case is complex.

We are faced with a two-pronged case.

First, Commissaire Lardin's scheme
to disappear,

and make off
with his illegal winnings.

We shall not delve
into his motives,

born of greed
and a disgrace to his function.

Nor shall we delve
into the strange circumstances

which allowed him,
in plain sight,

to run a rigged gambling table
in certain establishments...

Undoubtedly aware of his schemes,

or perhaps the instigator of them,

Madame Lardin first collaborated
in the subterfuge,

which sparked
the feigned row at the Dauphin.

His abject assertions are unfounded!

Sit down, madame, let him continue.

Lardin expected suspicion
would be cast upon a rival,

either upon the late Dr Descare

or upon naval surgeon Scemacgus,
standing here.

He needed a body to pass for his own,
and thus, poor Saint-Louis,

Scemacgus's coachman
became his prey.

His remains, and not Lardin's,

were found near Montfaucon.

accompanied by
a few of Lardin's personal belongings

masquerading as Lardin's death.

Thus far, sir,

the late Commissaire Lardin is
incontestably the sole perpetrator.

I see nothing
that might be held against her,

aside from complicity.

I'm getting to that, sir.

Part two of the plot

took place underground,
where Lardin's corpse was found.

It was in this underground room

that Madame Lardin played her part.

As Lardin was supposed to be dead,

why not eliminate him for good?

My motive, pray tell?

Several motives,
any one of them would suffice.

Your natural treachery
sharpened by commerce with men

in the trade you plied

at Madame Paulet's.

So what? Others also,

presently in high society.

You, yourself, sir...

Greed, madame, and the opportunity
to be rid of an old husband,

rumoured incapable of satisfying you.

But more importantly,
the desire to seize

the object of your late husband's
own impunity.

Stop there, Nicolas!

The letters that
Commissaire Lardin held,

and which,
for some odd scruple,

he was loathe to negotiate.

I suppose you now have a buyer
for those letters.

What a wild imagination, sir.

For these letters,
you eagerly tortured and killed

your cousin, Dr Descare.
- Prove it, sir! Prove it!

For these letters,
you also eagerly ordered

the abject torture and slaying

of your late husband.
- Prove it!

I shall, madame.

I know that the sight and the odour
of decomposing flesh repulses you.

This, however, is evidence.

Look carefully.

Notice how the blade
and the wound of the shoulder blade

are perfectly matched.

Commissaire Lardin was finished off,
sprawled on the ground,

He was stabbed in the back
by this sword,

with great force.

There was another man,

sharp, bold, unscrupulous!

A fearsome swashbuckler,
always ready to service you, madame.

You're familiar with my appetite,
commissaire.

Mauval satisfied me thoroughly.
I see no evidence

in any of this, however.

Mauval is dead, madame.

Mauval is dead and the truth

is marching in.

For I've a witness.

A witness to your plotting
and blood crimes.

Bricart, the old naval gunner.

He spoke and the thud of his step
sounds the truth

marching toward us.

With his testimony,
you will be put to the question

if you persist in denying,
and to prison if you survive.

Your beauty will fade, madame.

Your charms will promptly wither

as you rot away in a horrid lazaret.

I eliminated that foul beast.

My deed is now out.

Descare, too,
was another foul beast.

Both received just punishment

for the despicable things
they subjected me to.

They never saw me as anything
but a harlot pulled from the gutter.

A plaything!

I will not rot in a cell, sir!

I won't!

I didn't understand your silence.

Some things escape your wisdom, sir.

Your affair was no secret. How would
admitting it have compromised her?

- I loved her and gave my word.
- Your word?

I hardly hoped to believed,
but I hoped to be cleared.

I don't believe in justice
based on confessions.

I had great hope.

For innocence cannot be proclaimed.
It must be proved.

I was counting on you for that.

Your trust in mankind
both delights and dismays me.

You took a huge risk.

That trust did not apply to myself.

Under torture, I might have revealed
the little that I knew.

Thank you, Nicolas.

Mr de Sartine wants you to clear up
a few final details.

Descare.

As you can see.

Lardin had a twisted mind

and enjoyed playing such games.

Indeed, he held these letters,
but as a precaution,

not as objects for gain.

Otherwise, he'd have used them
long ago.

We now know that he ordered
two identical crucifixes to be made.

They were sent as anonymous gifts.
One went to Mr de Noblecourt,

the other to Dr Descare.

With them, he provided clues

in three notes pointing

to the recipients of the very thing
you are searching for.

The third element was safely held

by Mr de Noblecourt.

And Marie Lardin
was holding dear to her breast

one of the notes meant to alert me
should anything happen to Lardin.

How perverse to entrust one's safety
to one's enemy.

Or an admirable ruse?

For, who would have looked
inside this piece

to locate the cause
of so much suffering and death?

In fact, by the oddest fashion,

Lardin set in motion
the king's return.

No one is ever a bad
as one might think.

Nor as good, either.

Come, Nicolas.

We must give these back
to their rightful owner.

The situation is bleak.
The king is morose.

I think he'll want to hear
the meanders of our investigation.

May I suggest rounding the edges
of certain aspects?

And then...

I believe a touch of frivolity
might be appropriate.

Frivolity?

Have you found them, Sartine?

Sad trifles, indeed.

But penned by my own hand.

Such sad trifles,
if one is not careful,

can cause wars.

Nothing is worse than war, Sartine.

All the wars I waged,
were against my will.

They caused nothing
but loss, ruin, and desolation.

It is said, marquess,
that a king with no entertainment

is a miserable man.

Yes, it is.

I am well aware
that you led the investigation, so...

entertain me!

Entertain me, marquess.

Adaptation: David Cox
Subtitles: T�L�TOTA