Original subtitles

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In this great city of Glasgow,

there's a square,

Blythswood Square.

There's nothing very remarkable about its appearance,

and very little except for the solid,

well-built Victorian Houses

to suggest its earlier prosperity.

But there is one house in this square

which is exceptional

for it has an interest which time can never change.

Number seven,

which still remains,

was the home of Madeleine Smith.

Her strange, romantic story has survived

the elegance of the house she lived in,

and perhaps her spirit still remains

to listen for the ghostly footsteps

of Emile L'Angelier across the area,

or to listen for the tap of his stick on the railings

outside her bedroom window.

The story of this house is the story

of two human beings and what became of them.

Madeleine?

Yes, Mama?

Come, we're going in.

It has a good lock?

Oh, yes, sir, the best.

The ladies should be careful, sir.

I fear there is much dust.

You hear that, Janet?

Keep close to Mama.

This is the hall.

So I had divined.

Well, it has solidity.

How many bedrooms are there?

There are three principal bedrooms, sir.

Two on this floor and

one very commodious room in the basement.

Here is the drawing room.

Open the door please.

The handle looks dusty.

There, my dear.

Ah.

Yes, you were right, my dear.

It is dignified.

Dirty, but dignified.

I grasp essentials quickly, my dear.

Isn't it exciting?

Well, Madeleine, what do you think of it?

I like it.

I like this room very much.

Oh, Mama, look at the bars on the window.

Come along.

Come and look at the kitchen.

I think we should take this house, Mama.

What was that?

Nothing at all.

Go to sleep, Janet.

I'm going to open the window and leave you now.

You haven't finished telling me

what happened to the prince.

He went far away across the sea,

and never came back again.

Oh, poor prince.

Get into bed!

You haven't kissed me good night.

Now, this is the last time.

There's Mr. Minnoch.

Who is Mr. Minnoch?

You know perfectly well who Mr. Minnoch is.

He gave you a top last year.

Has he come to dinner?

Mm-hmm.

Papa has asked him.

He's been away for a time.

Will he have brought me another present this time?

Don't be greedy.

Good evening, Christina.

Good evening, sir.

I'm not late, I hope.

Oh, no, sir.

Good.

And how do you like your new home?

We all like it, sir.

Very much.

Miss Madeleine.

Good evening, Mr. Minnoch.

What a pleasure to see you.

It seems a long time.

It is.

Your stay in the south was agreeable, I hope.

I missed my friends.

I've brought these as an offering.

How exceedingly kind of you.

Mama will love them.

Papa, here is Mr. Minnoch.

Bravo.

Good, dear.

Delightful.

In spite of my clumsiness with the pages.

I was clumsy.

I sang many wrong notes, I'm sure.

Madeleine, I've never heard you sing in French before.

Have you not, Mama?

Sing the one about the spinning wheel and the little dog.

Pray, excuse me, Mama,

I'm so out of practice it must be tedious.

That it is not, Miss Madeleine,

but we must not tire you.

Indeed, I must take my leave.

Good night, ma'am.

Good night.

My warmest thanks.

I feel now that I am truly home.

You were most welcome, Mr. Minnoch.

And we shall look forward to your coming again soon.

And we must thank you again for your gift,

must we not, girls?

Yes.

Indeed.

Good night, Miss Bessie.

Good night.

Good night, Miss Madeleine.

Your music will be in my ears all night.

It will spoil your rest.

Disturb it perhaps, but never spoil it.

I'll see you to the door.

Most kind, sir.

Madeleine, bring me Mr. Minnoch's card.

Thank you.

"To the ladies of Blythswood Square."

That should read "To the lady,"

I fancy, Madeleine.

They were for you, Mama.

Mamas do not receive yellow roses from young men,

certainly not in such profusion.

Bessie, you must improve your singing.

I do not like French songs.

Besides, nobody understands them except Madeleine.

And Papa.

Papa does not speak French.

Nevertheless, he is clever enough to understand, Bessie.

Well, to bed, everyone.

It's late.

Yes, my love.

Night, Papa.

He stayed a long time.

But not too long.

No, indeed.

He's very welcome.

A fine man, Madeleine.

And a handsome one.

Yes, Papa.

Good night, Mama.

Good night.

I will turn out the lights.

Oh, if Janet coughs, give her the syrup.

Yes, Mama.

Good night, Papa.

Good night, my daughter.

You sang charmingly.

We must be quiet.

I thought the maid--

She knows.

Will you be cold?

No.

Madeleine,.

You're wearing perfume.

Yes.

I put it on.

I...

Gone.

We are like children hiding.

I heard you singing tonight.

It was for you.

But you had a visitor this evening.

He's a friend of Papa's.

I could be jealous of him, even for that.

You need not be.

Soon Papa will know you and accept you, as I do.

I wish I could believe that.

He came to the warehouse today.

I know.

And in my shirtsleeves I carried parcels to his carriage.

He gave me a coin.

But dearest, you won't always be in that position.

Besides,

I love you.

I shall tell him that.

You're cold.

I must go.

When shall I see you again?

I don't know.

Papa has talked about going to the country.

Well I might come there too.

No, that might be difficult.

I will write,

tomorrow.

I will write.

For these and all thy other gifts bestowed,

we render thee humble thanks.

Amen.

Madeleine?

Yes, Papa?

Wait.

Come, children.

Come get your coats on.

I wish to speak to you.

My boots.

Last night something of great seriousness occurred.

You can guess to what I refer.

No, Papa.

I'm surprised.

Last night after dinner,

Mr. Minnoch asked me formally

if he might pay his attentions to you.

What did you say to him, Papa?

I said I would speak to you.

I presume your answer is yes?

Is it?

No, Papa.

And, pray, why not?

I just do not wish it, Papa.

Do you dislike Mr. Minnoch?

I like him well enough, but it is so soon, Papa.

If it is, it shows the warmth of the feelings

that he entertains towards you.

Madeleine, for some time now,

your mother and I have had a growing anxiety about you.

There seems to be something about your character

that prevents you from acting naturally.

It is time that you were married.

You have met many young men

and yet nothing has ever come of it.

Now here is Mr. Minnoch,

admirable in every way, and yet you reject him.

What are your reasons?

I cannot give more reasons, Papa.

But I beg you not to say yes to Mr. Minnoch.

I have already done so.

He will be joining us at Rhu.

And you will oblige me by being sensible

and conducting yourself agreeably towards him.

If you do not, you will incur my gravest displeasure.

Is that understood?

Yes, Papa.

Very well.

Well, this is my last day, Miss Madeleine.

Yes, but I am sure Papa has every intention

of asking you to stay with us again.

Then have you forgotten that today

you were going to give me your answer?

Forgive me for being so persistent.

But the last few days have convinced me more than ever

that we should be very happy together.

Mr. Minnoch, I'm very grateful.

But it's a big step you're asking me to take.

Please, give me time to grow to it.

There's no-one else?

Mr. Minnoch, may I take you into my confidence?

Of course.

What I am going to tell you concerns my father.

I'm...

I'm very worried.

If he should know of this hesitation on my part,

he will be very angry.

Then, surely, it would be better that he did not know.

It would.

Then it shall be our secret.

Thank you.

You're very kind.

It's not very difficult, Miss Madeleine.

Shall we ride home?

Mrs. Jenkins?

Is that you, Mr. L'Angelier?

Yes, is there a letter for me?

Uh-huh.

Where?

Mr. Thuau took it upstairs.

Come in.

Hmm.

Ah.

Look.

She's very attractive.

Come in.

Did Mr. L'Angelier get it?

Oh, I see he did.

I've got your chitterlings, Mr. Thuau.

Delicious.

Emile?

Chitterlings.

Mr. L'Angelier?

Yes?

You haven't forgotten that it's the end of the week again?

Oh...

No.

You know, that will make three weeks altogether.

Yes.

I don't like mentioning these--

Yes, I understand.

I will pay you tomorrow.

Thank you.

Do you mean it?

Why shouldn't I mean it?

I seem to remember a little item

of a new suit to be paid for.

There is such a thing as keeping up appearances.

There is such a thing as paying the rent too.

Rent.

Is all well at Blythswood Square?

The family have moved to their house in the country.

That, if I may say so,

is the best thing that could happen.

Why?

Why?

Because if the enchantress is out of town,

you might conceivably come to your senses.

Mrs. Jenkins might even get the rent.

If you think it makes a slightest difference

whether Madeleine is here or in the country,

you're mistaken.

We love each other.

And we are going to be married.

Hmm.

Does Mr. Smith know that?

No, but he will be acquainted with the fact

as soon as I can be formally introduced.

And when will that be?

Very soon.

In fact, I'm taking the steamer for Rhu this evening.

"This, then, was the melancholy state

"in which Sir Marcus found himself:

"alone, bereft both of the kindly sights

"and sounds of nature and of the cheering company

"of a fellow human being,

"he was near to abandoning himself to complete despair.

"Indeed..."

Well, it's only the steamer.

Go on.

I hope Mr. Minnoch reached his home safely.

He went by rail, my dear, not steamer.

How stupid of me.

Continue, Madeleine.

I'm sorry I interrupted.

Hey, what time is the last boat

from here back to the city tonight?

17 minutes after 10, sir.

The last one?

Aye.

And the first in the morning?

Half-past five, sir.

Thank you.

"So saying, he gazed long and earnestly

"into the old man's eyes and then turned and strode away.

"He crossed the bridge without a backward glance

"and vanished among the conifers of the forest."

That is the end of the chapter, Papa.

Thank you, Madeleine.

You read well.

Thank you, Papa.

Well, to bed now.

Bessie, ring the bell for prayers.

Emile.

I'm here.

The gate was open.

Yes.

I unlocked it.

Mimi.

Why do you call me Mimi?

I do not know.

You dislike it?

No.

No.

Come.

They must be dancing in the village.

They are, yes.

I passed them.

Who did seat here?

Your family?

No, the people before us.

She was fat and got out of breath.

She would have been jealous of you.

Yes, she would.

I can hear what they're playing.

Listen.

Dance with me, Emile.

What?

I'm dancing.

Dance with me.

Here?

We are quite alone.

I do not know how.

Look.

Now the arm.

Now the other.

Like so?

Yes.

It should go faster.

You can't dance with that in your hand.

Heyah!

Do not come outside.

You will risk a chill.

My best thanks.

You're to come here a week today, remember?

Believe me, I won't forget it.

Good night, my boy.

Good night, sir.

Come, Bessie.

You look tired.

Good night, my dear.

Good night, Mama.

We're just off to bed, James.

Good night, Papa.

You bolted your food tonight.

Do not.

Every mouthful should be chewed.

Yes, Papa.

Madeleine?

Yes, Papa?

Is all well between you and Mr. Minnoch?

I think so, Papa.

Has he said anything?

No, I wish he would.

Indeed, I had hoped that one of you

would have said something to me by now.

I can hardly propose to him myself, Papa.

No, but I cannot help feeling that some sign,

some indication from you would...

Bring him to the boil, Papa?

That is both vulgar and flippant!

I'm sorry, Papa.

These things can be done

with perfect modesty and propriety.

I shall expect news soon, Madeleine.

Yes, Papa.

Good night.

Good night, Papa.

Is your room tidy?

Yes, miss.

You were laughing too loud with your friend

down here this evening.

He's full of pranks, miss.

Well, speak to him, otherwise, he won't be able to come.

Yes, miss.

You're undone now.

Thank you.

Open the door.

I thought the guests would never go.

I notice that Christina has taken to having a visitor.

Yes, I had to reprove her tonight

for making too much noise.

But, Madeleine,

has it occurred to you how embarrassing it is for me?

How, Emile?

You are the mistress of the house.

And yet I appear to be on the same footing

as the servant's young man.

I have to come and go by the same back door.

I find it humiliating, that is all.

I'm sorry, dearest.

But Christina takes advantage of being in my confidence.

I will tell her that

her friend is not to come here any more, hmm?

Is that the only solution?

I love you.

Is it?

No.

Madeleine, when am I going to meet your father?

You hesitate.

I do not hesitate.

But you always hesitate.

Why?

Well, it's difficult, that is all.

If you knew Papa, you would understand.

Madeleine, we're engaged to be married.

You have even said that you were already my wife.

Is it unreasonable that I should ask

to be introduced to your father?

No, Emile.

Then, what is the difficulty?

Madeleine,

is it that you're ashamed of me?

How could it be?

I love you.

Well, then prove it and speak to your father.

I will soon.

No, this won't do.

It has been soon before.

Promise.

I promise.

What will you say?

Please, not now, Emile, it's so late.

What will you say?

I will say...

"Papa..."

Yes?

"For some time now I've been acquainted

"with a French gentleman."

And?

"And we've...

"We've fallen in love with each other

"and...

"And..."

"We wish to be married."

"We wish to be married, Papa."

What's the matter?

I've been having headaches all day.

It's the snow, I think.

It oppresses me.

Poor Mimi.

I think I should try and sleep.

Do you want me to leave?

It would be best, Emile.

The pain makes me stupid.

Good night, Emile.

You will write and let me know

when you have spoken to your father?

Yes.

Good.

Has the post been yet?

Yes.

Good.

Mr. L'Angelier!

In a moment.

Mr. L'Angelier!

Mimi.

What has brought you here?

Put your arms around me.

Emile, we're going to be married.

So you have told your father.

No, but I've come here to ask you to take me away.

I do not understand.

Last night I made you a promise I cannot keep.

I cannot tell Papa.

Why not?

Emile, we've kept our love a secret all this time

for fear of even a whisper reaching him.

If he should hear of our engagement now,

he would separate us forever.

Take me away, Emile.

Take me away before it is too late.

Where?

Well, you had work offered you in London.

We could be happy there.

Happy.

Do you think we can be happy on what I earn?

If you love me, yes.

No, this is not what I desire.

If we marry, we marry into your life, not mine.

You will keep your word and speak to your father.

Emile, I cannot.

Why?

Because of what I am?

Of this?

Please, Emile.

You have broken your word.

For months now, I have waited on street pavements

like any common servant,

suffered the indignity of being admitted

by the back door night after night.

And all this time you've been deceiving me.

I was born a gentleman.

If your friend Mr. Minnoch can be accepted by your family,

so can I.

Will you marry me, Emile?

In such circumstances, no.

What are you doing?

Emile, I wonder if you know what you've done to me.

I, I thought we loved each other.

I wanted to leave my family and go away with you.

But until now I've never really known you.

But nothing has changed.

But it has, Emile.

I must ask you to return my letters to me

and not to try and see me again.

Wait.

You shall not go like this.

I'm going home.

She's in very good looks this evening, my dear.

You think so?

Indeed.

Many eyes are upon her.

One pair in particular.

That would make us very happy.

I'm sure.

But isn't that a foregone conclusion?

We hope so.

My dear, we are being too discreet.

How vigorous, you are, dear James.

You dance as well as anybody in the room.

I still have the use of my legs, my love.

Ah, the pipes!

Ladies and gentlemen,

pray take your partners for a Caledonian reel.

This was to be ours, Miss Madeleine.

Unless you're fatigued.

She is not.

She has been dancing with me.

Come, ladies.

We'll find a better point of vantage.

Come, Bessie.

I hear we shall be congratulating you both soon.

Or am I being premature?

You are, ma'am.

I'm sorry.

That was an embarrassing question.

Mrs. Grant is famous for them.

Nevertheless, I wish I'd been able to answer differently.

Would it have given you happiness?

More than anything in the world.

Come along, William.

Mr. Minnoch?

Yes, Miss Madeleine?

Before we start, I wish to say something to you.

I'm all attention.

If Mrs. Grant or anyone else

should ask you that question again...

You may answer differently.

Heyah!

Whoo!

And you will keep Saturday, will you not?

Yes, indeed.

We will ask a few people.

Good night, ma'am.

Good night, my boy.

Good night, sir.

I have not seen you alone all evening.

And now I'm going.

Is that what being engaged entails?

My family were so excited.

Come round tomorrow.

I will see they leave us alone.

Madeleine,

my dear Madeleine.

I trust you will never regret this.

I do not regret things.

Even what you do impetuously?

I accepted you tonight in an impulse, it is true.

But I felt I was guided to do so.

By providence?

Mm-hmm.

And Mrs. Grant's wig.

What is it?

We shall laugh together, you and I?

Of course.

Madeleine,

will you wear this?

Till we choose you one.

It will be clumsy on your hand.

But I should like to think of it there.

I will wear it.

I like it.

It is solid.

Is...

Is this your crest?

A crossbow.

Ah.

I thought it was an anchor.

Thank you, William.

Good night, Madeleine.

Good night, William.

I will call in the morning.

Sleep very well.

And don't fret.

We shall be happy.

Madeleine.

Madeleine.

We are so pleased for you.

I'm glad, Mama.

I feel quite light-headed.

And there is so much to discuss.

Yes.

Bessie will be bridesmaid.

- Oh, Mama. - Yes, yes, yes.

And Janet too.

Yes.

And where will it be?

Madeleine, you have a ring.

Yes, it is his.

He gave it to me.

Which it isn't very pretty, is it?

Look, Papa.

Emile.

I wish to speak to you.

Come outside.

Emile, have you brought my letters?

I wish to speak to you!

It is impossible.

Please go.

You'll wake everyone up.

That is precisely my intention.

What have you to say?

Come to the door.

I cannot, Emile.

Please say what you have to say.

Open the door.

No.

Open it!

Wait.

Thank you.

In here.

How dare you!

What is it you wish to say?

You were dancing very light-heartedly tonight, Mimi.

Where are my letters, Emile?

What is Mr. Minnoch to you?

He's a friend of Papa's.

I told you before.

Mimi...

If Mr. Minnoch entertained deeper feelings for you,

he wouldn't like to know that you are betrothed to another.

You and I are not betrothed!

You say that we were more than that.

You've written it many times.

That is done with.

I wonder if your father would agree with you.

He must never know.

But he must, Mimi.

If not from you,

then from your letters.

No.

It is my duty.

No, Emile, not my letters.

You made yourself my wife, Madeleine.

I cannot tell Papa.

I...

I cannot.

Then I will.

No, Emile.

I implore you.

He must know the truth.

He will destroy me.

He will put me away.

Please, Emile, do not go to Papa.

I will do anything.

Anything you say.

I will tell him, but not my letters, I beg you, Emile.

I beg you.

Mimi.

Mimi...

Hello, Sonny.

It's on the paper.

Just a minute.

What is this required for, my lad?

I don't know, sir.

Where do you come from?

Miss Madeleine Smith, Blythswood Square.

Will you go back and inform the lady

that I cannot supply prussic acid,

without knowing why it is required?

You mean, you won't give it to me?

That is what I mean.

Here.

Yes, sir.

I won't keep you.

All right, thanks.

Come in!

Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins.

Are you not feeling well again?

I'm feeling very well.

This is just my pick-me-up.

A drop of whiskey will be better for you.

It is inclined to linger on the breath, Mrs. Jenkins.

It's trustworthy.

You'll benefit by your holiday, Mr. L'Angelier.

Yes.

Mrs. Jenkins, may I have the key, please?

I might be late.

I'll fetch it.

I'm coming down.

To love.

Christina where is...

Oh, be quiet, please, Janet.

Christina, where is the bottle

that William brought from the chemist?

They wouldn't let him have it, miss.

Come on, Janet, out you get.

Is there any of the old stuff left?

I don't know, miss.

Give it to me, please.

Who is that?

A visitor.

Is it Mr. Minnoch?

Aren't you dry yet?

Not quite.

Answer the bell, Christina.

Yes, miss.

My skin is quite unpresentable.

♫ Then the birds and the bees

♫ Went a-sighing and a-sobbing

♫ Heard of the death of poor cock robin

♫ Heard of the death of poor cock ♫

Janet, I asked you to stop singing!

I'm sorry, Madeleine.

You must be good tonight.

Go to sleep quickly.

Good evening.

Miss Madeleine is expecting me.

The drawing room.

This way.

He's in the drawing room--

Yes, I know.

Yes, miss.

Make the cocoa, please, and take it straight up.

Yes, miss.

Use the silver jug.

Good evening, Emile.

Good evening, Madeleine.

I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.

I've been admiring this room.

It's most tastefully done.

Pray, sit down.

Do not be alarmed.

I shall be gone by the time

your family returns from their party.

I had great difficulty in excusing myself from going.

What reason did you give?

That I was tired.

Your looks contradict you.

Thank you, Emile.

My dear Mimi, I fear that...

Place it here, Christina.

You will take cocoa?

Thank you.

It's a raw night.

I think we shall have more frost.

It feels cooler.

Christina!

Take this to Mr. L'Angelier.

Yes, miss.

Still, perhaps better now than later,

when the blossom comes.

You're looking very debonair, Emile.

You think so?

I like your tie.

I chose it with care.

My dear Mimi,

I fear that you may have been thinking

that I'm a hard man and insensible to your position.

No, Emile.

You see, I have inherited the feelings

and delicacy of a person well-bred.

I realize that you must choose the moment

to speak to your father.

Consequently, I intend not to visit you for a week.

That is considerate of you, Emile.

But at the end of that time,

I shall expect to have received an invitation

to come here openly and be introduced to your family.

You will not fail me.

No, Emile.

Excellent.

Is that the instrument you play?

Yes.

Play for me.

And sing.

Very well. If you wish.

I have true passion for the pianoforte.

It's 7 o'clock...

Oh.

Mr. L'Angelier!

What's the matter with you?

I don't know.

I've been ill all night.

Dreadfully ill.

You should have called me.

Come back to bed, now, quick.

I'm a little better now.

I took some laudanum.

Come away, now.

Shall I get Mr. Thuau to fetch you a doctor?

No, no.

Is that tea?

I'm so thirsty, I...

I drank all the water.

You'll not get away for your holiday this afternoon,

that's certain.

Oh, yes.

I've made arrangements.

I shall try and sleep a little.

Don't worry, Mrs. Jenkins.

I should be better in an hour or two.

Cousin Charlotte!

Go inside.

Cousin Charlotte.

Morning, ladies.

Good morning, Mr. Murdoch.

I wish for a bottle of your cough linctus, if you please.

Certainly.

Bessie, I will make you a present.

I will give you a flask of rose-water.

Madeleine!

Why?

I feel like it.

If you please, Mr. Murdoch.

And I want sixpenny worth of arsenic.

What do you want that for?

Cook saw a rat in the cellar again yesterday.

We do not like selling arsenic for that purpose.

It's so dangerous.

Do not be alarmed, Mr. Murdoch.

We will take every precaution.

Very well, ma'am.

I shall have to ask you to sign the poison register.

Certainly.

Are there rats?

Do not be a goose.

It's my skin.

Maddy, you are vain.

Not a word to Mama.

If you would just sign your name here, please.

I will take them all with me, Mr. Murdoch.

And I'll be obliged if you'll place them

to my father's account.

Certainly, Miss Smith.

Except the rose-water.

How much?

That will be sixpence ha'penny.

Good evening, Mrs. Jenkins.

Good evening, Mr. Thuau.

Here's a letter for Mr. L'Angelier.

Should it be sent on to him?

It should without a doubt.

I will do it, I have the address.

Christina.

Is he here, miss?

No.

Are you sure you posted the letter?

Yes, miss.

Well, then, lock up and go to bed.

You'll not wait any longer, then, miss?

No.

Good night.

Good night, miss.

Mr. L'Angelier!

Good evening, Mrs. Jenkins.

I wasn't expecting you back till next week.

Are you better?

Much better, thank you.

Did you get your letters?

Yes, but too late.

I told Mr. Thuau they were important.

They were.

I had an appointment for Thursday

and Friday and I missed both of them.

Will you be wanting anything?

I'm just setting out for the kirk.

I will take your latchkey, if I may.

I may be late.

Well, you know where it is.

If you're wise, you'll not go out again tonight.

It's blowing up for a storm.

Perhaps you're right.

Mrs. Jenkins!

Mrs. Jenkins!

Who's there?

It is I, Mrs. Jenkins.

Open the door, if you please.

Oh, I'm just coming.

I'll go and fetch a doctor.

No, I don't want him.

Oh!

You'd better go and fetch him.

I see.

And how is he now?

He's asleep.

Mr. Thuau's with him.

Did you give him the medicine?

He's taken it.

And you say he's been sick again?

Yes.

What do you think it could be, Doctor?

It could be several things.

He's sleeping.

Seems a shame to wake him.

Did he say anything before he went to sleep?

No, Doctor.

You'd better pull the blinds.

I should have thought of that.

The man's dead.

Oh, no.

Was he married?

No.

Family?

Not in Glasgow.

Who will look after things, then?

I will.

Poor gentleman.

Poor gentleman.

Mrs. Jenkins, would you please help us

by making a cup of tea?

I'll send a woman along.

She'll do everything that's necessary here.

There has to be a certificate, has there not?

Yes.

Will you make it out?

No, not yet.

You're not happy about this either then, Doctor?

Doctor, I'm the assistant to the French Consul here.

I feel that perhaps a further examination should be made.

I have no objection.

Tell the good woman downstairs not to dispose of anything.

I will.

Good day to you.

Good day, Doctor.

Still, still!

Madeleine.

Stand up straight if you please.

I'm sorry, Madame Borani.

Oh, it'll look beautiful, will it not, Christina?

Oh, yes, ma'am.

See who it is, Christina.

Bessie...

Bessie, dear, come.

Hurry, girl.

You will give me room to breathe,

won't you, Madame Borani?

We must not sacrifice elegance, must we, ma'am?

Indeed, no.

Good evening.

Is Mr. Smith at home?

My name is Thuau.

Come in, sir.

What is it, Christina?

To see you, sir.

Hmm.

Come in, sir.

I do hope Papa will like it.

I'm sure he will.

He has an excellent taste in these things.

Shall I call him in?

Hold still, still please, Miss Smith!

Not yet, dear.

Wait till it is nearer completion.

Who was it, Christina?

A visitor for the master, ma'am.

They're in the drawing room.

Who?

I didn't quite catch the name, ma'am.

You must try to hear names, Christina.

Look, Mama.

Lovely, my dear.

Lovely.

Continue, Mr. Thuau.

It seems apparent, Mr. Smith, that he committed suicide.

Poor fellow.

It is very prevalent among that class.

Would you...

No, thank you.

But how does this concern me?

It concerns Miss Madeleine Smith, sir.

And so you.

My daughter?

He...

He hoped he was going to marry her.

Then he was a mad man.

My daughter is to marry a gentleman by the name of Minnoch.

To marry?

Certainly.

Quite soon.

Mr. Smith,

I think you should know that among Mr. L'Angelier's effects

are many letters from your daughter,

which show that his hopes, if mad,

had some little support.

I do not believe you, sir.

I'm a representative of my country.

I do not lie.

Madeleine.

Yes, Papa?

Coming, James.

I wish to speak to you in the drawing room.

She's fitting her dress.

I shall not detain her!

At once!

I'm sorry, madam.

Put this round you, dear.

No, thank you, Mama.

Who can it be?

It sounded a foreign name, ma'am.

I hope, sir, you'll excuse my dress.

Yes, Papa?

Madeleine, have you ever heard of a Frenchman called...

Pierre Emile L'Angelier.

No, Papa.

Have you ever written letters to him,

or anyone else, without my knowledge?

No, Papa.

Perhaps you will go, now, sir.

Miss Smith, Emile is dead.

Well?

Say something.

How?

He committed suicide.

Where are my letters?

You knew him?

Did you?

Answer me.

Yes, Papa, for a time.

You were intimately acquainted with him, too, Miss Smith.

Were you?

I met him, but he's not been here for some time, Papa.

He came to this house?

Why did I not see him?

Tell me.

It was downstairs.

Among the servants?

No, Papa.

Alone.

When?

I should be grateful, sir, if you would tell me when.

At night.

Did he tell the butcher boy too?

He expected to marry you, mademoiselle.

I...

I had broken with him, Papa.

But, Miss Smith, the day before he died,

he returned unexpectedly from the country

as a result of a letter from you, asking him to come here.

That was only a week ago.

He did not come.

Why did you write?

To ask him to return my letters.

I have seen what you wrote, Miss Smith.

The language does not convey such a purpose.

My daughter.

Papa, he did not come.

Miss Smith, I should have mentioned

that death was the result of arsenical poisoning.

Inquiries will be exhaustive.

There will be inquiries?

Inevitably.

Good night, sir.

I swear to you, I have not seen him.

I am not the police, Miss Smith.

Papa.

We are naked.

He did not come, Papa.

Has there been another train for Rhu this morning?

No, sir.

This will be the first of the day.

Thank you.

I am going away.

Christina told me at the house.

You were there early.

I wanted to see you.

The police were with me last night.

About what?

The death of a man.

Do not go away, my dear.

I must.

Scotland is not very big, you know.

William, I bought arsenic for my skin.

Tell them that.

I'm frightened.

I'm frightened, William.

Be frightened here where you have friends.

Fear by yourself, that's a crushing thing.

You do not know.

I know you will stay.

Why?

Because to do otherwise is not Madeleine.

Stay.

I'm human.

How could you be brave if you were not?

Stay.

Porter, will you find me a cab, please?

Yes, ma'am.

I will take you.

No.

I shall go alone.

I could help.

I do not wish it, thank you.

Dear William.

Take this.

But...

That is yours.

Keep it for me.

It may get lost.

Goodbye, William.

Good morning.

Good morning, ma'am.

Where are they?

They're in the drawing room, miss.

Good morning.

Good morning, ma'am.

Miss Smith?

Yes?

I am the representative

of the Procurator Fiscal of Glasgow.

I have a warrant for your arrest

on a charge of murdering Pierre Emile L'Angelier.

The wicked shall be destroyed!

This daughter of a rich man in her devilry defied

the most sacred laws of God and man.

She dresses in purple and fine linen.

But her heart is black!

Black with sin!

"Vengeance is mine," said the Lord,

and the retribution will be just upon this murderess,

this daughter of Satan!

Just and...

Here she comes.

She shall perish!

Yes, she shall perish!

Evil!

Get away there!

Get down!

Get away!

Get down!

Madeleine Smith, you'll hang!

Hang from a rope till you're dead!

Take her out and hang her!

We're on Princes Street.

I have your lavender water and clean handkerchiefs.

Thank you, Miss Aiken.

I trust this won't take long.

It's come at a most inconvenient time for me.

You must resign yourself

to a very lengthy wait, I fear.

Maybe several days.

No talking, gentlemen, if you please.

I shall be beside you.

My glove is unstitched.

It will not show.

I hope not.

Come up, please.

You must go up.

Come up, Miss Smith.

Are you sure you're not faint?

Madeleine Hamilton Smith,

now or lately prisoner in the prison of Glasgow,

you are indicted and accused of wickedly

and feloniously administering a quantity of arsenic

to Pierre Emile L'Angelier, now deceased,

with intent to murder him on the 22nd of February 1857,

in consequence whereof he suffered severe illness,

while further indicted and accused

of feloniously administering a quantity of arsenic

to the said Pierre Emile L'Angelier

with intent to murder him, on the 22nd March 1857,

in consequence thereof he suffered severe illness

and did die, and was thus murdered by you.

Prisoner at the bar, you have heard the indictment read.

Do you plead guilty or not guilty?

Not guilty.

I wonder if Madeleine is wearing her new dress.

Shh.

Did you see, Mr. Minnoch?

Dr. Penny.

Oh...

Dr. Penny, you were requested by the Procurator Fiscal

to analyze the contents of the body of the deceased.

I was.

Having carefully considered the results

of your examination,

what was your conclusion?

I am clearly of the opinion that the matters

analyzed by me contained a quantity of arsenic.

And now, Dr. Penny,

can you tell me whether arsenic could be administered

by means of cocoa?

Aye, it could.

Thank you.

Your witness.

Dr. Penny, one other question.

Can you tell me whether, in cases of your experience,

where a very large quantity of arsenic

has been found in the body,

can you tell me whether they have turned out

to be cases of murder?

Such cases as I have knowledge of,

where such large quantities were found,

were, in fact, suicides.

Then it would be a very difficult thing, Dr. Penny,

for one person to administer

such a very large dose of arsenic to another,

without that other person's knowledge.

Difficult, yes.

I would not say impossible.

But in all your wide experience,

you have never heard of it?

No.

Thank you.

Thank you.

The next witness on the Crown list, milord,

is number two, Christina Hackett.

Take your glove off.

Number two, milord, Christina Hackett.

Raise your right hand.

Repeat after me.

I swear by almighty God...

I swear by almighty God...

As I shall answer to God at the Day of Judgment...

As I shall answer to God

at the Day of Judgment...

That I will tell the truth,

the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

That I will tell the truth,

the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

You are Christina Hackett.

Yes.

You were a servant in the family

of Mr. Smith of Glasgow.

Yes.

Will you please look at label 170?

And do you recognize this likeness?

It's a likeness of the French gentleman

known to Miss Smith.

Did you ever see him come to the house

in Blythswood Square?

Yes.

Did he come into the house?

He did.

More than once?

Yes.

At what hour did he come?

At night.

And where were you?

In the kitchen.

And while you stayed in the kitchen,

did you know where Miss Smith was?

No.

Did you not know that she was in your bedroom?

I did not know it.

I must remind you, Christina Hackett, you are under oath.

Did you or did you not know that she was in your bedroom?

Well, I thought she was there,

but I didn't know it of my own knowledge.

Have you heard before...

Take this down to the office right away.

You're too late for the last edition.

They'll bring out another one and be glad to,

unless I'm much mistaken.

Here.

Come in.

What is it, Jean?

It is the paper, ma'am.

It has just arrived.

Burn it!

Sir?

I said burn it!

Thank you, Jean.

William Minnoch.

Number 27, milord, William Minnoch.

Repeat after me.

I swear by almighty God as I shall answer to God

at the great Day of Judgment...

I swear by almighty God,

as I shall answer to God at the great Day of Judgment...

That I will tell the truth,

the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

That I will tell the truth,

the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Your name is William Minnoch.

Yes.

You were acquainted with the Smith family, were you not?

Yes.

Mr. Minnoch, did you go to Glasgow railway station

on the day that the prisoner was arrested?

Yes.

With what purpose?

I wanted to persuade Miss Smith to return to her home.

Were you successful in your attempt?

Yes.

Am I right in saying that she returned

quite freely and willingly?

Yes.

Thank you.

Your witness.

Mr. Minnoch.

How far did your acquaintance with the prisoner reach?

I proposed marriage to her.

Did she accept you?

Yes.

Was it a formal betrothal?

I gave her a ring.

Where you aware that at that time

she was already engaged to someone else?

No.

You were not?

I was aware of no attachment

between Miss Smith and another man.

Thank you.

Milord, that concludes the case for the defense.

Lord Advocate,

are you now ready to address the jury?

Yes.

May it please your Lordship?

Shh.

Gentlemen of the jury,

after an investigation,

which for its length and for its exposure of sin,

and disgrace and degradation has proved unparalleled

in the criminal annals of this country,

I have now to discharge perhaps

the most painful duty that ever fell to my lot.

The inquiry starts with this ascertained and certain fact,

that Emile L'Angelier died in consequence

of the administration of arsenic.

The question therefore which first arises is,

by whom was the poison administered?

And here I must inquire into the evidence,

which connects the prisoner at the bar

with the death of L'Angelier.

An attachment was formed between her and the deceased,

in which she committed herself so completely

that she belonged to him and could, with honor,

belong to no-one else.

But another suitor appeared and her affection began to cool.

She endeavoured to break her connection with L'Angelier

and asked him to return her letters.

He refused and threatened to put them

into the hands of her father.

It was then that she saw the situation she was in.

Some extrication or other was inevitable.

And with a strength of will which I think you will have seen

she has exhibited more than once in this case,

she resolved to escape from the labyrinth

of difficulties in which she found herself.

Now, gentlemen, how did she set about it?

You will remember the evidence which William Murray,

boot boy in the Smith household, gave here four days ago.

I was to get the prussic acid at the druggist's.

Did you know

what the prussic acid was needed for?

Miss Smith said it was for her hands.

Did you get it?

No, sir, the druggist wouldn't give it to me.

Whether you believe the story

that she wanted it for her hands is for you to decide.

But you must admit, gentlemen,

that an attempt was made to purchase poison.

Poison was in her mind.

And what happened next?

L'Angelier was entertained in the drawing room

at Blythswood Square.

He was served with cocoa.

And the next morning he was found to be ill.

Now, recollect, please,

the answers with Mr. Thuau

gave to my questions to him on this point.

I cannot remember his exact words.

Something like,

"I cannot think why I was so unwell

"after getting that cocoa from her."

Had he spoken in that vein before?

Well...

I must remind you that you are under oath.

He did at one time say to me,

"It is a perfect fascination, my attachment for that girl.

"If she were to poison me," he said,

"I would forgive her."

L'Angelier recovered from this illness.

And then she bought arsenic.

Arsenic, gentlemen.

Again the defense will try to persuade you

that she bought it for cosmetic purposes.

But what was the evidence of an expert on this?

I should say arsenic, as a cosmetic,

would be very dangerous.

It would produce no effect whatsoever on the skin itself

and might well penetrate the bloodstream.

But, gentlemen, arsenic has other uses,

far more dangerous.

In the early hours of the morning,

Emile L'Angelier was found lying on his own doorstep,

in the throes of the illness that was his last.

For a few hours later, he died.

And he died of arsenic.

The prisoner was in possession of poison.

He died of the same poison.

Did she have an opportunity of administering it?

She denies entirely that she saw L'Angelier

the night before his death.

But you will consider, gentlemen,

whether that is consistent with any reasonable probability.

Why did he come back from his holiday?

He said he had received two letters

which I had forwarded to him.

The second brought him back.

Did he tell you the contents

of that second letter?

It asked him to visit Miss Smith on the Friday evening.

In what terms was it written?

Very pressing.

Did he say...

Now, be careful, if you please.

Did he say that he was going to visit Miss Smith

the night he did, in fact, return?

I gathered that such was his intention.

Now, owing to his absence in the country,

he had missed meeting her on the Thursday night

and on the Friday night.

But she, nevertheless,

waited for him on both these occasions.

Listen to these lines from a letter that she wrote to him

after he had failed to keep the appointment

on the first night.

"Why, my beloved, did you not come to me?

"I waited and waited for you, but you came not.

"I shall wait again tomorrow night,

"same hour and arrangement.

"Come, my beloved, and clasp me to your heart."

Gentlemen,

can you imagine that the person who wrote this letter,

having already waited eagerly and expectantly

for L'Angelier to visit her on the Thursday

and on the Friday...

Can you believe that she didn't

wait for him on the Saturday and on the Sunday?

L'Angelier returned to Glasgow on the Sunday.

But is it possible that he and she did not meet that night?

He was seen in the neighborhood.

You've had a witness here to say so.

And, gentlemen, you must come

to the inevitable conclusion that they did meet.

And if they met, the evidence of her guilt is overwhelming.

The defense will probably stress the possibility of suicide,

but consider this.

L'Angelier was in the highest spirits

when he left his lodgings.

If he took his own life,

it could only be in consequence

of something that she had said to him.

But how could she say anything to him, if they didn't meet?

During his illness,

during the whole of his relationship,

there seems to have been not the slightest aversion to life,

not the slightest desire for death.

On the contrary,

the last words that he said before he died were:

"If only I could get a little sleep,

"I think I would be well."

The sleep he got was the sleep of death.

I leave the case entirely in your hands.

I see no outlet for the unhappy prisoner.

And if you come to the same conclusion I have done,

there is but one course open to you.

That is to return a verdict of guilty.

Your solicitor is here.

He would like to see you.

Well, come in, Mr. Forbes.

Good evening.

Good evening, Miss Smith.

I hope you're managing to keep your health in this ordeal.

Thank you.

I am very well.

Your bearing in court throughout the week was remarkable.

Most remarkable.

I've heard it discussed in many quarters.

I'm only allowed to sit and listen.

It is not difficult.

No.

Miss Smith, I beg you not to pay undue attention

to the prosecution's case.

It's their duty to paint things black.

Thank you, Mr. Forbes.

My father used to say,

"Never make a decision until you've heard

"both sides of the case."

And I have the greatest counsel in Scotland.

Gentlemen,

the charge against the prisoner is murder,

and the punishment of murder is death.

That simple statement is sufficient to suggest to us

the awful solemnity of the occasion

which brings you and me face to face.

The public watch our proceedings

with such an anxiety and eagerness of expectation,

that I feel almost bowed down and overwhelmed

by the magnitude of the task that is imposed on me.

You are invited and encouraged by the prosecutor

to snap the thread of this young life

and to consign to an ignominious death

on the scaffold one who, within a few short months,

was known only as a gentle

and confiding and affectionate girl.

Even my learned friend the Lord Advocate

could not resist the expression

of his own deep feeling of commiseration

for the position in which the prisoner is placed.

I salute him for it.

But I do not want commiseration.

I am going to ask you for something

which I will not condescend to beg,

but which I will loudly and importunately demand,

something to which every prisoner is entitled.

I ask you for justice.

And if you will kindly lend me your attention,

I shall tear to tatters

that web of sophistry in which the prosecution

has striven to involve this poor girl

and her sad, strange story.

Gentlemen, the prosecutor charges the prisoner

with administering poison.

He asks you to affirm on your oath

the fact that on two separate occasions

she, with her own hands, did administer arsenic.

Now, in dealing with the circumstantial proof of this fact,

the first thing that is absolutely necessary

is surely the possession of poison.

The means must be in the prisoner's hands

for committing the crime.

Now, you will remember the question

I put to Christina Hackett.

To your knowledge, was there any poison in the house?

Yes.

There was some left in a bottle.

What happened to that?

Miss Madeleine used the last of it

when she was washing her hands.

You have had it proved very distinctly,

I think, to an absolute certainty,

that on the occasion of the first illness

the prisoner was not in possession of arsenic

or any other poison.

I say proved to a certainty for this reason.

The prosecutor sent his emissaries

throughout every druggist's shop in Glasgow.

Prior to L'Angelier's first illness,

there was no record whatsoever

of the prisoner buying arsenic.

You must now see the consequences

of the position which I have established.

Was L'Angelier's first illness

due to the effects of arsenic?

You have heard the evidence of his landlady Mrs. Jenkins.

Will you tell the court whether you think

that the symptoms of the first illness

were similar to those of the second illness?

Yes.

There was the same sickness and the same pain.

I remember saying to the poor gentleman,

"It's like what you had last time."

Gentlemen, the conclusion is inevitable.

L'Angelier was ill on the first occasion

from the effects of arsenic,

and he was ill and died on the second occasion

also from the effects of arsenic.

But it has been proved to you

that the prisoner was not in possession of arsenic

on the occasion of the first illness.

And if the symptoms of the first

and second illness were the same,

then the arsenic was administered to him

by other hands than the prisoner's.

Now, if the suspicion is in your minds

that she procured poison in some unknown,

underhanded way,

and that L'Angelier's first illness

was the result of his visit to Blythswood Square

on the night before,

recollect the evidence of Christina Hackett.

Now, you prepared the cocoa and took it up.

I did.

It was usual for them to have cocoa?

Yes.

Were you there when it was poured out?

Yes.

Did Miss Smith drink her cocoa?

Yes.

And there was none left when I took the tray down later.

So much, gentlemen, for the first charge.

Now, we all know that on the occasion of the second illness,

the prisoner did possess arsenic.

But one person may be in possession of poison

and another may die of the effects of poison.

And yet that proves nothing.

You must have motive, and I shall come to motive by and by.

And you must also have another element, opportunity.

The opportunity of the parties coming into personal contact

so that poison can be administered.

Now, there is a letter, an all important letter.

"Why, my beloved, did you not come to me?

"I waited and waited for you, but you came not."

When was it that she waited and waited?

It was upon the Thursday evening, that was the twist.

But L'Angelier never kept that appointment.

"I shall wait again tomorrow, same hour and arrangements."

That was on the Friday evening.

And believing that he was still in Glasgow,

she no doubt waited for him again.

Waited as she had on the previous evening.

But he came not.

In fact, L'Angelier did not keep his appointment

on either the Thursday or the Friday evening,

neither did he appear on the Saturday.

Why then should she expect that he would come on the Sunday?

Let us see what happened in the Smith household

on this all important Sunday.

Madeleine and I were in bed the same time that night.

Are you sure, Janet?

I want you to answer very carefully.

Do not be frightened.

Just tell the truth.

I am sure.

There was a storm.

Madeleine was in bed with me before I was asleep.

Did that always happen?

No, sometimes she gets undressed

but sits in a chair with a book.

But this night she went to bed?

Yes, I have told you.

Gentlemen, neither within the house,

nor without the house,

is the slightest ground for suspicion

that the appointment made in that letter was ever kept.

I do not attempt to disprove the medical evidence

that L'Angelier died by arsenic.

On the other hand, I intend to prove,

and I think conclusively,

that the arsenic from which he died

was not the arsenic purchased by the prisoner.

Indeed, could not have been.

Dr. Penny, in your examination of the body,

did you find any coloring matter?

Coloring matter?

I did not particularly attend to that.

Why not?

I was not asked to.

But surely your attention was directed

to the whole matter for analysis.

Aye...

It was.

And in point of fact,

you did not find any coloring matter.

I did not search for it.

You did not find it.

No.

Now, the druggist who sold the arsenic

to the prisoner made a statement about it.

All the arsenic I sell is colored with soot.

Ordinary coal soot, Mr. Murdoch?

Aye.

It is a safeguard against careless use.

It may be very well for Dr. Penny to say now

that his attention was not directed to coloring matter.

But fortunately an experiment was made.

I gave a dog arsenic

which I bought in Murdoch's the druggists.

Did it contain coloring matter?

It contained a small proportion of soot.

Did you have any difficulty in detecting

the soot in the dog after death?

No, I did not.

Gentlemen, probably no man can ever tell

how L'Angelier met his death,

and His Lordship will tell you

that in the prisoner's defense, I am not obliged to try.

But aspects of his character

have emerged during this inquiry,

which certainly suggest an answer.

He was at times subject to very low spirits.

Did he actually at one time

tell you of his intention to commit suicide?

Yes.

He went to the Dean Bridge to throw himself over.

Why did he do that?

I believe because a lady jilted him.

But whether he met his death by accident or by suicide,

the question for you is, is this murder proved?

Was the poison administered by the hands of the prisoner?

What motive had she to commit this murder?

It may be that it would have been

an advantage to her that this man should cease to live.

But what possible advantage could she expect

so long as her letters remained?

Her object, her greatest desire

was to avoid the exposure of her shame.

L'Angelier's death only defeated that object.

He died with the letters still in his possession.

"Why, then," ask the prosecution, "did she buy arsenic?"

The prisoner says she used it as a cosmetic.

This might be startling at first sight to many of us here.

And we have had the medical gentlemen

shaking their heads and looking wise,

and saying that such a use of arsenic

would be a dangerous practice,

but, gentlemen--

It is a practice of which I am certainly aware.

From your personal experience?

Aye.

It is not rare for ladies to come into my shop

and ask me to sell them arsenic as a toilet preparation.

They've read it somewhere or a friend has told them.

Gentlemen, I have laid before you,

as clearly as I could,

what I conceive to be

all the important facts of this inquiry.

And I now ask you to bring your judgment

to the performance of your most solemn duty.

The time may come, it certainly will come.

Perhaps not before the great day

on which the secrets of all hearts shall be revealed,

and yet it may be in this world.

When the secret of this extraordinary story

of Madeleine Smith may be brought to light.

Dare any one of you here,

dare any man here or elsewhere

say that he has formed a clear opinion against the prisoner?

For if on anything short of clear opinion

you convict the prisoner,

reflect, I beseech you,

reflect what the consequences may be.

May the spirit of all truth guide you to an honest,

a just and a true verdict.

But no verdict will be either honest or just or true,

unless it leaves undisturbed and unvexed

the tenderest conscience among you.

Clear the court!

There.

Now you can see for yourself how becoming it is.

Madame Borani certainly took a great deal

of trouble with it.

I'm almost sorry the court has been cleared.

It would have been a good advertisement for her.

The judge was very wise.

I never saw such unruliness.

You are very kind, Miss Aiken.

I think you purposely suggested

that I change my dress to keep me occupied.

Nothing of the kind.

Miss Aiken, will the jury be much longer?

Try not to think about it.

Now, hurry and finish as I must take that back.

It's against regulations.

I'll be back presently.

James Christie,

James Pearson, James Walker,

Charles Thompson-Coombe,

William Sharpe, Archibald Weir,

Alexander Morrison, Andrew Hugh Wilson,

Hugh Hunter, Robert Andrew, George Gibb,

William Moffatt, Alexander Thompson.

Yes, sir.

Court!

Who speaks for you?

I do.

What is your verdict?

In respect of the first count in the indictment,

the jury by majority find the prisoner not guilty.

In respect of the second count, the jury by majority

find the charge against the prisoner not proven.

Not proven.

Such a verdict could only be given in Scotland.

Madeleine Smith left the court,

neither guilty, nor not guilty.

The charge could not be proved.

Madeleine Smith,

you have heard the indictment.

Were you guilty or not guilty?