Original subtitles

The names, Father.

I have them, Mrs. Davis.

Be at rest now.

Indeed, I shall, if that's what you want.

In nomine glorio se...

In

nomine glorio se... In nomine glorio se... In nomine

glorio se...

Tooth of wolf, witch's mummy.

Maw and gulf of the raven's salty shark.

Root of hemlock digged in the dark.

Liver of blaspheming jewel, gall of goat. And slips of you

slithered in the moon's eclipsed nose.

I think you're a birthstack. All right, it was a mistake. You win.

That's very noble of you, Hermia.

Good, you are noble.

Shh!

Sorry,

I think we'll finish my education in the pub.

See you tomorrow.

Lovely hair.

It did upset her, losing it.

May I offer you a lift, Father Gorman? I have my car. Thank you, Doctor.

I've some business to attend to.

I'll walk.

Who touched me bike?

Oi!

What happened?

Don't worry.

It's okay.

I'll get an ambulance.

What? What is it?

What?

And according to our information, this piece of paper was meant for me.

Father Gorman was bringing it here.

To the police.

Was he? And you tried to stop him. Someone was trying to. I was about to

the poor sod a hand.

Ormerod. Esketh Du Bois.

Tuckerton.

Are they familiar to you? No. Why should they be?

Mahmensworth, Sanford, Delafontaine. No.

No?

We're going to find out, so you may as well tell us. I was in that alley to get

me bike, that's all.

I told you, it was knocked over. How?

I don't know!

You're one of them angry young men, sir.

You're a bit out of date, Inspector.

Now, if you're not charging me... Oh, I will be.

I intend charging you.

with the murder of Father Patrick Gorman.

You can?

Very nasty wound on the back of Father Gorman's head, Mr Easterbrook.

And when we find the murder weapon, and we will, I reckon I'll have you.

Really, it's outrageous.

You have no right to treat my friend like this.

I expect it's because he's an artist.

What will happen to him?

If charged, probably have to apply for bail, miss.

How much?

That's not my decision, miss. Oh, come on, you must know.

Roughly. Well, two, maybe three hundred pounds. Is that all?

We'll bring him up straight away.

My car's at the front.

Who do I make a check payable to?

That's not quite how it works, miss.

Why not?

Off you, darling.

Have you gone yet, Hermia?

Donald's here opening up.

I bet he thinks I lost my reputation last night.

I'll have to put him straight then, won't I? You're a brute.

We could have been really cosy together in there.

I told you.

Not ready for cosy.

Don't want to be your low -life experience.

You're not.

I just thought you might want to rob me of my virtue.

Yeah, well, I would, only I've got, like, this murder charge hanging over

There was a man loitering, you thought, Dr Osborne?

Yes, I'm sorry, I really didn't see him clearly enough to give you a detailed

description. As I said, there was someone tallish, slim, wearing a leather

jacket.

And were you present when Mrs Davies gave Father Gorman a list of names?

No, he was already administering the last rites when I arrived.

What did Mrs Davies die of, sir? Pernicious anemia.

If she'd come to see me sooner, I might have saved her, although she had a weak

constitution, poor diet, she worked too much overtime.

Not a heavy job, though, is it, doing market research?

Door -to -door? A grinding one, wouldn't you say? Dull, without prospects.

And I suspect she'd seen better times. That's always lowering.

Back to your patients, Doctor.

Thank you for your help. Thank you.

Thanks, sir.

It's too vague, sir. We can't put him in front of a liner. Well, he gave us a

leather jacket.

I said it'd take us a step closer to Easterbrook, wouldn't you?

So do you want to go over what happened?

No point.

You don't remember?

Well, you remember some of the names on the list.

Armour, do you mean?

Esquive Dubois.

Tuckerton?

So what? It means nothing to me.

Little Tuckerton's a pretty uncommon name, isn't it?

There's a whole bunch of Tuckertons out at Much Deeping.

I know one of them, actually.

Tilly.

Tilly Tuckerton.

Have you seen my other pearl earrings, Florence?

No.

Tilly, darling, you're not well. What's all this about earrings?

I have... to make myself presentable to visitors.

Look at me.

I'm like a corpse.

Are you strong enough to receive visitors this year, Dr. Wiley?

Oh, I should think so, Mrs. Tuckerton.

They'll cheer you up, perhaps.

Tilly, darling, pop back into bed.

I want the doctor to examine you while I'm here.

Fussing. I do try, as stepmother's will, to be a real mother. Not fussing. Just

sensibly concerned.

I'm sorry you had to cut short your holiday.

Heavens, that was the least I could do.

George!

I think we've got it sir.

He hit the priest and then he chucked it up there.

We have some more visitors.

Are you up to it?

Hi, Tilly. How are you?

Darling,

of course. Please come in.

Gosh, you've lost quite a bit of weight, haven't you?

So would you if you'd survived on orange juice and pills for ten days.

Kate, this is Kate Mercer, my oldest friend.

Hermia and, er... Mark Easterbrook.

The sculptor?

Yeah.

I'm in the art business.

Picture restoration. I saw your name in the catalogue.

Look, I think I'll just go and find a vase.

I seem to have that effect on people.

Forget it.

Hermia said you wanted to ask me some questions.

She sounded pretty mysterious.

Yeah, well, you know Hermia.

It's just I was wondering if the name Ormerod meant anything to you.

Or the name Hesketh Dubois.

No, sorry.

You're sure?

Quite sure.

Well, do you know or have you ever met a Father Gorman, parish priest at St

Saviour's?

No, why?

Well, there's a connection. The name Tuckerton, the other names, the priest.

I'm sorry, I wish I could help you. Is there anything else? Tilly's exhausted.

No.

No. Thanks.

Hope you feel better soon.

It's all settled then.

You'll come for me tomorrow. Let me live with you in London. Of course.

Shouldn't we wait until you're a little better? No.

I must get away from here.

Away from the pale horse.

What do you mean, Tilly dear?

It's time for your medicine and your rest.

Kate, would you mind?

I'm staying at the checkers.

I'll come and see you tomorrow.

We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.

The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Lord is my chestnut. I said you shouldn't have come.

He's just the sort of cop who believes that old chestnut about the murderer

turning up at the victim's funeral.

Listen, I'm in the frame for the priest, not her.

She died of a virus.

Feels like murder though, doesn't it?

So kind of gruesome.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no

evil. For thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff comfort me.

Thou shalt prepare a table before me against them that trouble me.

Thou hast anointed my head with oil and my cup shall be full.

That thy loving kindness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. I

wish you looked at me like that.

Sorry.

Bad taste.

It was very moving.

Who were they?

Our resident eccentrics.

There's a grey, Sybil Stamford is in their cook bellow.

The locals call them the Three Witches.

They live together in an old house in the village called the Pale Horse.

Used to be a coaching inn.

Now, here comes my man.

I need to talk to you.

There was no post -mortem.

And I don't believe the stuff about the virus.

Well, the doctor was satisfied.

You can't argue with a death certificate.

Look, I know it's hard to take silly with your friend. She was convinced

was something wrong.

She was terrified.

She was dying, for God's sake.

She's probably off her head by that stage.

I know you don't believe that.

Look. You came to Tilly for help, so now help me find out what's going on.

Help you? I'm in enough trouble as it is.

I didn't even know Tilly... You came to her funeral.

I'm sorry, she died.

And yeah, you're right. The family name was on Gorman's list.

So? There's a connection.

I'm only after the bloke who killed Father Gorman.

You know what I think?

Find out what happened to Tilly and you'll get what you were after.

You'll be off the hook.

Time to go, Marky.

Shall I bar out with one of the gang?

Yeah.

One of the gang, why not?

Convince me.

You know who gets all this?

And the Tuckerton money?

Florence, the stepmother.

Because Tilly died before her 21st birthday, just before.

Well, these things happen.

Tilly's father died five years ago.

Florence was his big mistake.

He picked her up at a casino.

And there's Poppy, Tilly's stepsister.

She isn't just miserable, she's scared out of her wits.

I thought those two were away when Tilly started going down.

Tilly was afraid of something here.

Something called the Pale Horse.

The Pale Horse?

Do you know what it means?

I'm staying at the pub.

I'll buy you a drink.

Okay.

Bob, what do we do? Bow?

If he can't tell us about the pale horse, we'll ask in the village.

Mark Easterbrook, Kate Mercer.

or Claude Farrar.

Nice.

If you take sugar.

You know your paintings, Miss Mercer.

I'm going to sell a lot at auction at the end of the month.

And I will miss that one the most. I can see why.

It's a beauty.

Are you susceptible, Mr Easterbrook?

It's a bit decorative for me.

Then we shall have to find something more to your taste.

For heaven's sake, get a move on. There's loads to be done.

Hello, can I help you? Excuse me, sir, we have one search for premises.

What do you mean, search for premises?

Look, this is a private show. What do you think you're doing? Excuse me,

You can't come in and out like that.

And what

will you do after the sale,

Mr Venables?

Start all over again playing the market?

Maybe go for a couple of Rembrandts this time?

You disapprove.

Quite right.

So would I in your position.

No.

No more collections.

A new start.

Spain.

Good for the aches and pains, you see.

These old withered legs keep playing me up.

Polio when I was young.

Miss Mercer?

You are devastated by your friend's death, aren't you?

Yes, I am.

And troubled.

Tilly died in fear, Mr. Venables. A morbid fear, I'd say, of the pale horse.

Revelation, chapter 6, verse 8.

And I looked, and behold, a pale horse.

And his name that sat on him was Death.

And Hell followed with him.

As a matter of fact, there is something that might interest you at the Pale

Horse from a professional standpoint.

There is?

An inn sign dated 1603, from when the place was an inn.

It's not the finest example of its type.

It has a certain ominous charm worth a look.

which I'm sure the owners will be only too pleased to allow.

And they might, at the same time, answer your questions.

Could we have a reaction, please?

Even a little enthusiasm?

I'll get enthusiastic when the priest comes into the picture.

Stop the car. What?

Stop the car.

You moved my bike.

You moved it.

We've moved everything, sir.

We do have authorisation.

Show him, Sergeant.

I'll take it as read, sir.

What is this?

I mean, what do you want?

You know, you're going to look pretty stupid when you check out what I've got

tell you.

As for what we want, sir... Sergeant... You're a very set of spanners here, sir.

Sure. What about them?

Sir? And a wrench, do you, sir?

Yeah.

Heavy?

High gauge?

Yeah.

Is that it?

Looks like it. Got your fingerprints all over it, sir.

Okay, so you found me a wrench. What does that prove?

Nothing in itself.

But along with your fingerprints, we've identified traces of Father Gorman's

blood.

Just here, sir.

Around the ratchet.

Look, I remember. Listen, I told you. It should be in my statement.

The bike was knocked over in the fight, probably.

The fight? Yeah, and some stuff spilled out on the road, and I picked it up and

rammed it in, but the priest had been hit in the head by then.

That seems to be the lot, sir.

Okay, let's go.

Listen!

Listen to me!

So, this is the modern stuff, is it, sir?

My wife wouldn't give it out through... Look!

There was this bloke in the pub that night.

Leather jacket, same as me, only he left first. I've just seen him again, half

an hour ago.

Well, you'd better take me to him, then, sir.

Well, I can't.

Not now.

I don't know where he is.

Very handy.

Shame you didn't mention this bloke to me before, sir.

Dinner? You're obsessed, just like that policeman.

It was just another man in another jacket.

Why did he run away, then?

I mean, you said there was a link. Find Father Gorman's killer. We got tillies,

you said.

It was the other way round.

On that pale horse.

Forget it.

Just be panicked, would you, by the thought of three old bats with account

powers?

I'm going after this leather jacket character.

Take him out of my heart.

How predictable.

Okay, then what's your line?

I've told you.

I've got a hunch about Poppy, Tilly's stepsister.

I'll see her tomorrow and make a talk.

And me?

You can't avoid your destiny.

There you have it, Mr.

Eastbrook. The original sign of the pale horse.

Interesting.

1603, you said?

Yes, but the inn parts of the house date from much earlier.

Look more closely.

Tell me what you see.

Ah.

Well, I don't know.

Is there a rider in there? Good.

You see it.

We say here that our visitors become the rider.

Yeah?

That they see, if they see anything at all, themselves mounted.

Pale horse, pale rider.

Interesting.

Yes, but of course that's only a symbol of what you've got on your mind.

What do you mean?

I mean that you're not telling the truth.

We both know what you've really come here to talk about, Mr.

Easterbrook.

What's going on, Poppy?

Can you tell me? There's nothing to tell. This rushing off to London.

Selling the house. Mummy has debts, that's all.

She has a, you know, weakness for gambling.

Debts? With all this?

She's promised to get help.

What about Tilly's inheritance?

I don't know.

I think there's a mortgage or something.

You're confusing me. What happened to Tilly, Poppy?

You know what happened.

She died of a virus. The truth.

It is the truth.

Ask Dr. Wiley.

We were in France, Mummy and I. We got word she was ill. And before you left

France, Tilly told you about the pale horse.

Didn't she?

Didn't she?

She said something.

I didn't know what she meant.

Truly, I didn't. Poppy, entertaining.

When we're almost on our way. We were just grieving together, Florence. That's

all. For Tilly.

I'm just leaving.

Our visitor, Sybil.

Mr. Easterbrook, Miss Danfordis.

I saw you at the funeral.

I dare say you saw us.

What does it matter? The point is, he knows of us.

Are you interested in the occult, Mr Easterbrook?

Let's just say I'm curious.

Very well, let's just say that, shall we?

We speak of the great mystery, Bella.

Bella's our cook. She has her own special powers.

You've heard of our powers.

They are the cause of somewhat inaccurate rumour among the locals.

I'm not actually local, myself.

Let's not beat about the bush.

Our reputation's gone before us.

What more is it you want of us, Mr.

Easterbrook?

What more have you got?

Hello? Who?

Oh, no, that's my mother.

I'll just get her.

Who is it?

What did you say?

Nothing, Mummy. I... Nothing. Forget the rest of the things. Get in the car.

But... What? I said get in the car!

Morning, Mr Venables.

Just the patient I want to see.

Good morning, Doctor. Why is that? I was writing your regular prescription this

morning. Yes, we collected it on the way in.

Make a mistake with the formula.

In 20 years of practice, I've never made a mistake, Mr. Venables.

Yes, of course. Please forgive me.

It's just your medication has been superseded. There are much better drugs

your condition these days. I'm surprised your Harley Street man hasn't

prescribed one of them. Howarth.

Perhaps you'd like to come and see me. I could do an examination and suggest

possible alternatives.

Thank you, Doctor.

Sir William Dugdale is the leading expert in what you are pleased to call

condition. And I shall continue to be guided by him. Howarth!

What were you looking so pleased about?

Come with me.

I've got something to show you.

The landlord reminded me I didn't sign the register when I checked in.

So I obliged.

Then and there.

Well, what can I say?

Beautiful writing.

Look at the name on the top of the list.

Oh, Marod.

That was one of the names on... On Father Gorman's list.

Mr George Ormerod of Aylesbury stayed here a couple of months ago.

Three pages back, you'll find an entry for Sir David Hesketh Dubois from

Hastings. Both availing themselves of the service provided by the pale horse,

imagine.

Which is what, incidentally?

Only little matter of death by auto -suggestion.

You want someone dead? Easy.

You just work on the death wish that resides in a soul, and they die.

You mean...

You drive them to suicide.

Please, nothing so crude.

We're talking about the laying on of a real illness with real symptoms and real

pain, simply by activating the aforementioned death wish.

And how do you do that?

Well, we start by consulting this commission agent in London, named

Bradley. They gave me this card.

So, what else are you looking so pleased about? Poppy tot?

Not much.

But she did confirm Florence was in dire need of the inheritance.

It proves a motive.

Afternoon.

I was wondering whether we could have a little chat.

You're obviously aware you're under surveillance?

Yeah. I noticed.

Why were you at the funeral?

Friend of a friend.

Why were you there?

Tuckerton was one of the names on the list. The list found on Father Gorman's

body. And that makes me a killer.

And it is your wrench.

Surprise, surprise.

But that doesn't mean you go around knocking off priests, I agree.

Thanks.

So, you reckon your boss is getting it wrong with me then? I didn't say that.

But we do seem to be visiting the same friends of friends.

So what's the deal?

I prefer the word cooperation.

I nailed Father Gorman's killer and I am up for inspector straight away. My boss

gets it wrong and I am on Plod Street from here to eternity.

You start.

The six names on that list of Father Gorman's are all names of people who

died recently, apparently of natural causes, all of whom left hefty amounts

money, usually to just one or two relations.

Like Tilly?

I'd say it was a hit list.

And yet there's nothing, absolutely nothing, to connect those deaths, so far

we know.

I think we might be able to help you there, Sergeant.

I told you to stay out of sight.

I'm having to move faster than we planned.

We're mission agent.

Where I come from, we call them bookies.

If you scream, I'll call for the cops.

If I scream, it'll be too late.

A last request?

Just this.

Lincoln Bradley.

That way, sir.

Sir.

Mr.

Bradley.

Ah, my visit.

Ah, you said there was something you wanted to discuss.

What exactly?

Well, first of all, how much?

You're not one for wasting time, I see.

Well, what's the answer?

That's not the way to go about things. We must proceed in the proper manner.

Beginning with an introduction.

I don't know your name.

I don't feel like giving it. Yeah?

Then tell me the name of our go -between.

Who sent you?

Let's just say a friend of a friend.

With an interest in horses, sort of. Rather, one particular horse.

The pale horse.

I see.

And you want to take advantage of my services in this respect.

Sorry? A bet, a wager, which I shall arrange for you.

It's what I do.

Yeah, if that's the drill.

You can bet whether Mrs.

A will live to be a hundred.

Or whether Mrs. B will die before Christmas.

And you make sure she does die before Christmas?

Aye. I do nothing but draw up the bet and collect the state money.

So Miss Thursigrander pals do the rest?

By telepathy? Oh, come on.

Disbelief is the whole point. How in a court of law could a woman ever be

convicted of causing death by remote control?

The idea is fantastic.

It's impossible.

But it is impossible.

I know.

Extraordinary thing is, it works.

Father Gorman wasn't killed by remote control.

His skull was demolished. Father Gorman, you've got me there, my friend.

I only deal in natural causes.

That's what he said.

And I set the ball rolling with a sail that's got off by Thursday. Go with the

pale horse.

During which they put voodoo on me.

I'm supposed to nick one of your personal possessions and take it with me

they can use it to redirect the emanations.

Redirect the what?

Oh, it's priceless.

Yeah, I know.

Just, I don't feel like laughing.

And how's it help to prove I didn't kill Gorm?

What kind of personal possession?

No.

No, no, no, no. We're not getting into this.

It's the only way we'll ever find out what happens.

I'll tell Corrigan. Make it official. He can sort it out with the inspector.

And what will the inspector do?

Apprehend three lunatics who offer death by seance?

He'd have you for murder and wasting police time.

The killing is real. And you won't be in the clear until we know the set -up.

Anyway, the police start poking around and the killer's on his guard.

Or hers.

My way you look like the authentic client

If

we

do this you'll be the client I'll be the victim

Worthy. But stupid.

Look, you've done the groundwork. You saw Bradley.

I bet they're even expecting you back at the Pale Horse.

I know they are.

I could feel it.

Listen.

Let's say I'm the troublesome wife who's popped up from your past to mess up

your current affair.

I'm taking you to the cleaners over the divorce.

And you're...

Wealthy new girlfriends getting restive.

So, you want me dealt with fast.

Oh, God, I'm going to have to go.

You can stay if you like.

From now on, I'm the wife you want to get rid of.

You've got to start hating me.

And besides, you've got to save yourself your new love.

Oh, yeah?

Who's that, then?

Permia?

No. No, no, look, we can't involve Permia.

She wouldn't do it.

I bet she'd do anything for a lark.

Not since I ditched her.

Try her.

Be brave.

Any of these ring a bell, Dr. Osborne?

In a sense, they could all have been the man I saw.

No, no, sorry.

I had the merest impression, that's all.

Worth a try, anyway.

Oh, of course, you might have stirred a memory. Impression is deceiving

sometimes. So is there anything else you can think of, sir? Anything unusual or

untoward? No, I went straight home after we parted.

Think hard, sir.

Anything at all unusual you may have noticed?

I don't know. It's difficult.

Patient confidentiality comes into it.

Although, since I'm about to remove him from my list... Take your time, sir.

I have a patient who claims that his legs have atrophied because of an attack

polio. I've been his doctor for six years, but he's never once allowed me to

conduct a full examination.

He relies instead on a repeat prescription, that's all. A painkiller

prescribed by Sir William Dugdale of Harley Street.

and one that would have been revised by any competent physician by now.

I've tried to check with Sir William, so far without success.

You're saying your patient can walk, sir, but he pretends to be disabled.

know he can walk. He's a fraud.

And does this have any bearing on our case?

He enjoys going to the theatre.

To the playhouse?

I can't divulge his name, of course.

I wouldn't dream of asking you to, sir.

like I'm your girlfriend to catch the cops on the hop.

That's about it, Hermia.

Sounds quite fun.

A little dangerous, too.

I shouldn't, really. Not after the brush -off you gave me.

Brush -off? I looked away for five minutes and you'd been pounced on by

stockbroker. Banker, actually.

It's quite nice. It's called Rufus.

And he positively demanded my reputation.

Terrific.

Not very happy for you.

Though a little competition won't do him any harm.

We'd better camp out in our guest room.

You think I'm an absolute pushover, don't you?

Pushover? Not at all.

I just think you're a totally, utterly reliable.

Looks like our man is called Venables, sir.

Lives like a country squire and owns an art collection.

Gives to charity and takes an interest in local affairs.

Hmm.

Funny bloke, that Osborne.

Maybe you ought to take him seriously, though.

If this Venables can walk, he could have nipped out of the theatre.

Well, it takes the heat off Mark Easterbrook, then, sir.

Easterbrook?

Do you see him and Venables at the Tuckerton funeral?

Thick as thieves, those two. You mark my words.

If you say so, sir.

Champagne, Mr. Easterbrook?

I don't think so.

Oh, please.

There is a certain form about these affairs.

It is rather good.

Now we drink to the success of our enterprise.

All on your own today.

A bit exposed, aren't you?

Death to your wife.

Death to my wife.

You're too young, if I may say so, to have a failed marriage behind you.

That was it, being too young.

Yes, one makes these mistakes.

A second time, I hope, you sensibly marry money.

Yeah.

Miss Hermia Redcliffe, you may have heard of her father, Lord Redcliffe.

I have.

Wise choice.

We like to be sure that our clients won't be tempted to avoid paying their

Interesting variation on the usual pattern.

The money almost always comes to the client from the deceased.

Shall we make our wager?

I bet you £100 that within two months, your wife, Mrs Mark Eastbrook,

will be dead.

And I bet you £2 ,000 she won't.

Now, you will vacate your current address, leaving your wife in residence.

You must stay away.

To maintain your alibi, at least until the process is underway.

After a leave?

A final visit to the pale horse?

And the deed's as good as done.

Bella!

He will come.

We must prepare.

Certainly I was at the theatre.

And Mark Easterbrook was there too.

He and his charming companion called on me the other day.

Wanted to have a look at my collection.

Very fine, sir. Some of these paintings?

You a connoisseur, Sergeant?

No, he's not, sir.

He's a policeman.

Now then, Mr. Easterbrook's companion, sir.

She restores works of art and therefore has a specialist's interest.

So you're a friend of the Tuckerton family, sir?

Well, I know them. It's a small place. There's a certain kind of solidarity.

Yes, yes. It's very tragic, the death, Mr Venables, and there are circumstances

which touch on the investigations we have in hand.

Then I hope I've been of some help.

So far, sir. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

There is, however, just one other thing, sir.

Sergeant.

It is thought in some quarters, sir, that you're not actually disabled.

That you can, in fact, walk, sir.

In what quarters, Sergeant?

Dr. Osborne, perhaps?

My specialist, Sir William Dugdale, has been in America.

But he's come back now and I'm...

Sure, he'd be only too pleased to discuss my case with you.

Hello, husband.

You know what to do.

Keep your distance.

From everyone, right?

Right. Except you.

Okay. I guard her with my life. I sleep downstairs.

I watch. I pray.

I'm Joe.

And you don't surface till all this is over.

At least I can catch up with some work.

Have you got the thing?

Our personal position?

What does it do?

Here. No one can hurt me.

I hope you're right.

I should tell the sergeant first. No, he'd stop us.

Look, you'd better go.

I suppose so.

Look, Donald.

Message received, loud and clear.

I'll be fine.

Yeah, but... Just go.

Hermia will be waiting.

Look, when all this is over... What, at my funeral?

Perhaps we could.

That would be nice.

Sit, Mr. Easterbrook.

You have brought with you what you were instructed to bring?

Yes, most suitable.

The physical emanations from the wearer are very strong.

Sibyl.

You will remain where you are, Mr. Easterbrook, and be absolutely still. Do

On any account, move from the chair.

We are dealing with forces that are dangerous.

To those who do not know how to handle them.

Let us begin.

Are you comfy, Sybil?

Yes, thank you, dear.

What tea?

Donald, I'm fine.

Donald?

Is Mark going to be a successful sculptor?

That's what I'm banking on.

You'll have to make up your own mind.

I am calm.

I am here.

Hello? Is that you, McCandle?

I am here within.

Are you prepared, McCandle, to submit yourself to my will and my desire?

I am prepared.

Will you so dedicate this body that death will pass through it, obeying such

natural laws as may be available to the receiver?

The dead must be sent to cause death.

It shall be so.

as with all human beings.

Her goal in life is to achieve death.

There is no final satisfaction but death.

Only death solves all problems. Only death gives true peace.

Death is the great ecstasy.

Death.

Be easy now.

No.

No, no.

I don't want this.

I don't want it.

Too late now, Mr.

Easterbrook.

It's too late.

Old Mummy and Daddy are getting over a nervous breakdown and need some

cherishing. Another half hour at the Pale Horse, the breakdown might be for

real. Darling, was it frightful?

I thought I'd say darling again because it sounds quite right.

This is where we put guests.

I thought you said a room.

A guest room.

Did I?

I suppose it's more of a wing, really.

I'm back there if you need me.

I know. This is great. I'll be fine.

Not very flattering to a girl, are you? I am meant to be your fiancée.

It's not that you're not highly desirable, Hermia. It's just I'd rather

permanently disfigured by some jealous stockbroker.

Banker.

Dinner's eight.

Papa, pardon me.

That's Venables in the clear.

Been with Sir William for years, sticks to the same medication because it

happens to suit him. Sir William hadn't actually seen him, though. For years he

said so.

Don't complicate my life, Sergeant.

Incidentally, what's this about him being friendly with the Tuckertons?

Well, that's the word in the village, sir.

I keep coming back to the names on the list.

Oh, do you?

Well, I keep coming back to our biking friend.

File on Easterbrook with you.

It's dangerous. You don't know what you're getting yourself into.

You believe in witchcraft? I believe people have been knocked off somehow.

The black magics are blind, the bookies are front man.

You checked on Bradley?

Struck off three years ago, malpractice.

Since then he's been legit, apparently. Nothing, not even a parking ticket.

No connection with the desk then?

Same with the old bats.

So, us going in on our own is the only hope?

I still think you should forget it.

Sorry, we're all set.

Right, first sign of any trouble, you're on to me, okay?

Six murders apart from Father Gorman.

Maybe more.

There's got to be something that links them.

The nurse who looked after Mrs Hesketh Dubois said her hair fell out before the

end. It's the same as Mrs Davis, different causes of death, though.

Encephalitis and, uh, anemia.

I'm doing a bit more on Venables.

Did you see him at the theatre?

I don't know.

If Dr Osborne is right, and he can walk, there's got to be something there.

Kate? Mark.

Everything okay?

No sign of a hit squad.

What are you doing downstairs?

Oh, for heaven's sake. I came down to borrow some milk.

You left nothing in the fridge. The deal was you stayed in the studio.

Any problems?

No.

Except Donald has come over all Mother Hennish and is driving me mad.

Even now, he's resisting the charms of a market research lady to keep his eyes

fixed firmly on me.

I think she's quite got the wrong idea somehow.

Was Tilly's hair falling out before she died?

I don't know.

She just looked generally so awful.

It's hard to say exactly why. Is it important?

It could be.

Now, back upstairs.

Take care. I miss you, Mark Easterbrook.

Oh?

Good. Don't sound so cheesed up about it.

Thanks for coming. I'm so sorry. It's been awful for you. I don't know what to

do, Kate.

First Jimmy, and now Mummy.

I'm so scared. Come upstairs.

I'll put the kettle on.

Good heavens, no, the old girls would never let a doctor near them. No, they

have their own remedies, so I hear.

It was Mr Venables who directed me to what goes on at the Pale Horse, but you

believe him to be a fraud.

Time will sort Mr Venables out.

You don't care for Mr Venables, do you, Doctor?

I don't know where you got that idea from, Mr Easterbrook.

Rumour. Gossip. Doesn't matter.

The word is Venables can walk.

That could hardly be proved by me or any other physician unless he's submitted

to a full examination.

Unless we can make him walk. I'm not sure what you're getting at.

You and me.

We could have something to gain by showing him up.

It's my innocence and your professional reputation at stake.

How about joining forces?

She went out, said she'd be an hour, and never came back.

I mean, why would she kill herself then, like that?

I mean, why make such a fuss about hiding in London if all the time she

was going to... Hiding?

We were hiding in that hotel.

She had debts.

Terrible debts.

But Tilly's inheritance was coming to her.

I thought all those worries were over.

What's going on, Kate?

I can't say.

Not yet.

Poppy, tell me something.

Did Tilly's hair fall out before she died?

Yes.

Yes, it was the virus.

Hair loss isn't automatically a feature of the diseases these women died of,

sir. I've checked.

And I've got an inquiry going into symptoms shown by the others on Gorman's

list. What are you suggesting, Sergeant?

I'm not sure, sir.

Poison, maybe.

Poison?

Six different doctors pronounced six different causes of death. None of them

suspicious. And not one of them was given a post -mortem, sir.

What's all this about Venables?

If you trace back the personal details he gave us, sir, you end up with a

Venables, originally of Western Supermare, treated for polio in 1937 at

College Hospital in London.

Well? Well, the records, tax returns, health insurance, etc., only go up to

1952, when there's an application for a passport. After that, there's nothing.

Until six years ago.

When the present Mr Venables becomes a ratepayer...

In the area.

Well, out of the country, possibly, or... Or?

Or?

Or dead, sir. Dead? It's not unknown for the identity of a dead man to be taken

on by someone else. Someone else who wants to keep his own identity quiet.

be ridiculous, Sergeant. That's big -time crime stuff.

Evening, Mr Venables.

Bit of a cheek to turn up like this, but I need to talk to you.

No, I'm sorry, it's not convenient at present.

Not on the move, are you? Not yet.

The collection's been packed and it makes for a certain disruption

the house. I don't care about the disruption, I just want to talk. Make an

appointment next time.

You know something, don't you?

About Father Gorman's death. Go away!

Don't play around with something you know nothing about.

No joy, I take it. None whatsoever, Thorsay, is rattled.

Right. Shall we rattle him some more?

Howard! My house is full of smoke!

Here I go.

Now.

Got you, Mr. Venables.

It's the bolt from the valve.

Well, I'm glad you're getting somewhere.

When can I get out of here?

Why? What's wrong?

On set of acute boredom, I'm afraid.

I find I'm looking back fondly to the day we were tested for the gas leak.

That was a real highlight.

Stick with it. At least till we find out the tie -up with the killings.

Or even if there is one.

Corrigan's on to it.

What's up?

It's nothing.

I'm starting with a cold, I think.

Kate. Now, stop it. I'm fine.

It's just a cold.

I'm coming over.

No.

Don't spoil everything now.

I miss you, though.

Pussy hits on you.

I don't want to be seen going out with an older man.

We're going out.

Seems inevitable.

What have I got?

They say it's something like septicemia.

Oh, sorry.

I blew it, didn't I?

Hey.

Come on.

Nobody's blaming you.

How is she?

My doctors are working on it.

They kill this sort of thing all the time.

You know, there was a market researcher woman in the gallery.

But she was right there in front of me all the time.

Market researcher? What happened?

Well, nothing.

She just filled in a questionnaire. We both did.

It was a bit of a laugh, really.

Name? You got the woman's name?

Eileen.

Eileen something. I remember that because that was my dear mother's name.

You can't remember anything else?

God, no.

Hold on.

She gave me one of those free biros. Look.

Customer reactions classified. There's a telephone number.

Formation. Such excitement.

The Tuckerton girl.

I wonder what they hope to find.

Fools. When will they learn?

I hope this is worth it. Poison can be very difficult to trace.

That will be Venable's art collection going to the sale room soon.

So he must stick around till... When's the auction? Friday.

We've got to move if we want him, sir.

Move on what?

Suspicion is always not what it seems.

Well, if he doesn't need a wheelchair now, he soon will.

And who's that with him?

We know him, don't we?

The bloke in the leather jacket.

Yes, sir.

Get some support, Sergeant.

You go round the back.

I'll go in from the front.

Mr. Venables!

Police!

Open up, sir!

refuse to open us up, we shall enter by force.

The house is empty, sir. The back door is open.

All right.

Put a cord there. Put a cord out. Right. And take this place apart.

Yes, sir.

The man in the leather jacket has now been confirmed as being Richard Flood,

sir. Went down for a bank job four years ago. Out about now.

And then who else?

Ned Thackeray and two others never caught.

Venables and his man.

He's got to stick around, though, ain't he, Venables?

To collect all the sale of his paintings.

You did check it was genuine, didn't you?

Yes, sir. It's advertised. It's a big event at Sotheby's.

I'd best check against it.

I'll leave Brandon.

Yes. I was told I'd find you around here. Look, I need to speak to you.

I'm sorry, I'm working.

Oh, please. It's very important.

Please. Give me ten minutes. I'll buy coffee.

Don't tell me, Sergeant.

Sotheby's say they're still waiting for delivery of the collection, sir.

It should have arrived yesterday so they could set it up in time for the sale.

They've phoned Venables, but his phone's been off the hook, sir.

Off into the wide blue yonder with flood and thackery.

Maybe not thackery, sir. He's got extra time inside for bad behaviour. We're

just checking now.

How did you get on to me? I called your employers.

You don't know who the client was, do you?

No. This one was done via a post office box number, apparently.

God knows why.

It's not exactly the stuff the Russians would want to get their hands on.

So even the boss didn't know who paid for the information.

Funny business, this market research.

Quite a lot of it's hush -hush.

I suppose the company doesn't mind as long as the bills get paid.

And Mrs Davies?

Oh, Jessie.

She had her doubts about this one, too. Said it wasn't set up properly.

Mind you, she went peculiar.

In the end, I think she had delusions.

Maybe it was her illness coming on.

Tell me about her delusions.

She got it into her head that some of the people we interviewed... Well?

They died.

Suddenly, very soon afterwards.

She thought she was somehow responsible.

You didn't believe her? She went crazy.

I mean, she found a death notice in a paper about a man called Almarod and

started crying.

Said, he's another one. I was at his place a few weeks back.

Said she was going to go to the police, tell them everything she knew, which was

precious little, in my opinion.

I only do the job and take the money.

Nothing else.

You asked Kate, Miss Mercer, which products she used. What kind were they?

Dental products, hair preparations, soft drinks, the usual.

I had a few minutes' conversation with her in that gallery place. That's all.

I didn't even touch her.

Look, there's nothing wrong with a job.

My conscience is clear.

I've got to get on.

Is she going to be all right? Steady on, sir, steady on. What are you doing for

her?

We've just had the lab reports back from Miss Tuckerton.

The pattern of decomposition suggests that there was poison present.

Why can't you get on to it sooner? Six people have died. Some poisons break

the systems of the body fast, so infections get in, tumours form, organs

collapse. The victims seem to die of those conditions. Even the best doctors

wouldn't look any further for the cause of death.

And what about Kate?

Isolating the poison and matching the antidote is going to take time.

All that we can do now is wait.

Where is he, then?

You're too nervous, Ricky. That's always been your problem. That's why you and

Ned got nicked.

Well, you would if you had to spend time in there, wouldn't you?

Only four years.

Think of all that money you're going to collect.

Probably about as much as a high court judge gets paid in four years.

Just feast your thoughts on that, Ricky boy.

Word gets around.

If you want someone killed, there's these three old girls with a pale horse

who'll fix it for you.

They put you in touch with Bradley, who frames a bet, which is how you pay.

All perfectly legal.

And there's this farce with a cockerel's blood.

They curse whatever's put on the victim.

And when, I mean, if the victim dies, it looks as if they did it further and co.

Right, except someone else is collecting the names of potential victims from

Bradley, most likely.

But he'll know who the real killer is.

Not necessarily. Maybe Bradley writes to a box number and the killer just picks

up the name of whoever he's going to do next.

Kind of a big production, though, isn't it?

I mean, where do the market researchers come in?

Maybe their results go to the same box number.

Yeah, it's clever.

It's murder by an organisation with the killer at its head.

The only person who knows what the head of the organisation does is the head of

the organisation himself.

There's no one to give him away.

But it's mad, too.

He is mad.

Or she.

Yeah. Or she.

Right. It's off to the pale horse for the boss and me. Not before time, in my

opinion.

I really like Kate.

I wish I didn't, in a way.

I'm desperate for her to make it.

Welcome back, Ned.

Charlie! Long time no see.

Still Mr Venables to you, Ned.

Until we get on the plane anyway.

We going in then, sir?

No, we all need to as a sergeant.

There shall be chaos where there is certainty.

There shall be blood on every stone.

You are damned.

You are damned in this life forever.

I am a candle.

Right, sling the candle in the back of the van, boys.

Two down, one to go, sir.

Steady. Don't touch me.

Come on, please tell me what's going on.

You are to come with us down to the station, Miss Gray.

Who says I am to come?

I do.

Lejeune's the name.

Chief Inspector.

Now, make it easy on yourself, Miss Gray.

Easy?

But what have I done?

What has any of us done?

We'll talk about that down at the station.

Not good enough, Chief Inspector. Then I'll set off a breach of the peace until

I can think of something better.

Now.

Are you walking or do you want lifting?

You vulgar little man.

You can't begin to understand the power you grapple with.

Horrible place.

Nice work, Sergeant.

Probably worth the promotion.

Thank you, sir.

Just need the link with Venables and then we're there.

What else are you doing?

No change, essentially.

At least there's no more poison going in.

If we knew what it was, we might start pumping in the end state.

Mark, what's the hurry? Still here.

Must be.

What?

Toothpaste, shampoo, soft drinks in the studio somewhere.

Oh, there's somebody up there. The chap with the gas ball again.

Are you going to tell me why you've been faking a disability and an identity, Mr

Venables?

I'll tell you then, sir.

The bank robbery that Ricky Flood and Ned Thackeray were sent down for was

planned by a far higher life form than those two.

Clever man.

A big shot in his own way.

Anyway, there were four of them involved in the robbery and only two got done

for it.

You and your chauffeur were the other twos, huh?

And while you were waiting for the others to come out, you invested in

to make your capital grow.

What better way to keep people off the scent of a bank robber than to have him

in a wheelchair?

Really?

And you planned the Sotheby's sale business as a front, Friday instead of

when Ned was free.

Then you were all off for the divvy -up. Those paintings belong to me.

An American consortium bought the entire collection.

Excellent prices, so there was no need for a sale.

Sotheby's will be compensated, so I don't really understand what you're

at.

She found out about your past.

So you finished her off.

Or your friend Bradley did.

Bradley? Was she trying to blackmail you, sir?

Or was it that she couldn't pay up for your little sideline, sir?

I have a sideline, do I?

Contract killing.

Remember Miss Tuckerton?

She was a sweet girl.

I was always suspicious about her death. That's why I appointed our young

friends to the Pale Horse.

I hope you get whoever did it.

Ricky Flood killed the priest for you because you knew the names on the list

could do for you. Rubbish!

Mr Flood was there because he's a friend. I promised I'd give him a few

just to help him get on his feet.

I nipped out of the theatre for a few minutes.

On my feet, of course.

What's the poison?

What's killing Miss Mercer?

Miss Mercer.

I think I'd better ask for my solicitor.

Please help me.

My dear fellow, come inside.

Sit

down

here.

Hold this against the wound.

That's going to need stitches.

Sit still while I get some water.

Then we should call the police.

Tell me what's in it, otherwise you'll eat it.

No one can deny it was extraordinarily clever.

A fitting exercise for my considerable intelligence.

Not even Bradley knew who I was.

All the time those grotesque women believed they were effecting the deaths.

Had I not been obliged to kill the priest and Miss Mercer, I should now be

taking my rightful place in society with money I could have spent...

with far more taste and discretion than Mr. Venables, who seriously

underestimated my powers.

for Venables and Co. His lawyer's been in doing a deal.

He could pay back what he lifted from that bank and still have change from his

investments for a cushy life.

Brilliant. Good old Mark's rating.

We're picking up Bradley and all.

Osborne's ratted on him.

I recommend it all round.

Especially you, Sergeant.

Thank you, sir.

Didn't manage to cut your hair there, Mr. Eastbrook, when they patched you up.

I wouldn't let him.

Hair's going to be down to here, Inspector, by the autumn.

Is it really, sir?

And also just after the human race one, aye, sir?

Still, I owe you an apology.

Well, I'll take it as read, Inspector.

Terrible shock, of course. Osborne turning out to be a psychopath.

Well, you don't think, do you? You know, a professional man, a doctor.

Exactly, sir.

Exactly.

Here's my sandwiches, Sergeant.

Cheese and onion. Right, sir.

Enjoy them.

What's that, Sergeant?

Sir?

You wouldn't be losing your hair, would you?

Where's Donald?

Isn't this a working day?

Disappeared with a headache.

He's a diplomat.

What do we do now?

This.

We have some music, some food, a little champagne.

We'll take the rest of the day very, very quietly.

The sort of quietly my doctor would approve.

Absolutely.