All language subtitles for Marple 1x01 - The Murder At The Vicarage .dd.en

Look brave.

Thank you, Captain, Mrs Ainsworth.

Can't I come to the station?

(Sighs) I'm not that brave.

Oh, my darling Lizzie.

(Train whistle blows)

My egg was hard again, Mary.

Blame the chicken.

No.

Oh, no.

Yes.

Mm.

(Engine roars)
- Dennis...

(Engine off)

- Must you, on a Sunday?
- Sorry, Uncle Leonard, but she's playing up.

- You can't go to church like that.
- Oh, I'm not anyway. This could be a long job.

- Mary!
- She won't hear you.

Can't even boil an egg!

She's all we can afford, you old misery.

You knew I couldn't cook when you married me.

And you knew I was old.

LEONARD: Look at the time!

Oh.

- Morning, Miss Marple.
- Good morning.

How did you manage that, Griselda?

- He'll be early for once.
- I shall tell you this evening, Jane.

And bring some of your damson gin over.

It might take the edge off Mary's cooking.

CONGREGATION:
The summer days are come again

Once more the glad earth yields

And deepening shade of summer woods

And glow of summer air

And winging thoughts and happy moods

Of love and joy and prayer...

But every man is tempted

when he is drawn away of his own lust
and enticed.

Then, when lust hath conceived,

it bringeth forth sin;

and sin,

when it is finished,

bringeth forth death.

Here endeth the lesson.

(Girl sighs)

(Sighs) Stop wriggling, Lettice!

- It's Letteece.
- Everyone calls you Lettice.

You're not everyone, Lawrence.

Behave. Don't forget where you are.

Steady.

You should be on a calendar.

- We could hang it in your father's study.
- (Giggles)

(Lettice giggles) Oh, Lawrence.

- Get an eyeful, creeping around?
- She's in her bathing suit.

Mr Redding's an artist.
It's like looking at a bowl of cherries for him.

Until she takes it off.

You've got an oily nose.

Last Sunday's collection in aid of
the Church of England Missionary Society,

a total of 18/11 d. Well done, everybody.

- That can't be right.
- What?

The society benefits enormously
from the efforts we make.

I put in a pound myself.

I have here a letter of thanks
from the secretary.

(Whispers) Colonel...

(Indiscreetly) Yes, Marjorie?

- There's something wrong...
- (Yells) What?

Shh!

- What?
- Shh.

MISS MARPLE: You are quite sure?

I always put a pound note into the box
on the anniversary of poor Bruce's passing.

- I know, but perhaps this time...
- Come on, Miss Marple!

If Marjorie says she put a pound in, then she did,
so where's it gone?

I thought you'd be straining at the leash
to sniff out the culprit.

You do have a reputation to maintain.

My reputation, Colonel Protheroe, if I have one -

how kind of you to suggest I do -
is neither here nor there.

I merely wonder if it's too early to talk of culprits.

- Nonsense!
- Lucius.

Anne, don't paw me.

Now, I'm a church warden,
and I was in intelligence.

I know when something smells fishy.

It could be the tip of the iceberg. Vicar!

Jane, shall we try the Toby Jug tomorrow
just for a change?

Good idea.

Where's Lettice this morning?

- Mr Redding's painting her.
- On a Sunday?

- Mm-hm.
- You don't think?

He does have a way with him,
but she's just a girl.

I'd plump for an older candidate
if there is somebody.

(Panting) Don't forget, ladies,
tea and scandal tomorrow at 4.30.

And I've invited Mrs Lester. I'm coming!

Perhaps we'll find out a little more about her.

Something would be a start.
Fancy staying at the Blue Boar.

Not very homely for her.

Very well-stocked, if you take my meaning.

- Oh?
- Tipsy at the jumble sale.

Ooh!

Why the dear vicar had to choose
such a shallow wife, and at his age too...

I expect to see a full set of parish accounts

or I'm going to take this matter further. Yes?
Is that quite clear?

- Yes.
- Tuesday. Vicarage, 6.15 sharp.

(Laughs)

WOMAN: I know what you mean.

Colonel, any news of your architectural sleuths?

Yes, Dr Haydock.

They arrived last night. They'll be taking
photographs and making drawings. Still...

One of the perils of owning
an important house like Old Hall.

Good day, Doctor.

What a dreadful, dreadful man.

- I'll walk, Daddy.
- No. Get in.

ANNE: How's the portrait coming along?
- Perfectly well, thank you, Anne.

Lettice... I thought he was painting you

- in that pretty blue dress of yours.
- Yes...

but today he was just doing my hands
so I didn't bother to wear it.

What have you got in there?

Nothing.

Let me see.

Come.

I-It's more artistic.

There's art and there's smut!

- How dare he? And how dare you?
ANNE: Ssh, ssh.

- Don't shout, for goodness' sake.
- I'll fight my own battles.

(Sighs) I was thinking of our guests.

(Clock chimes)

(Door opens)

Good morning, Professor.

Do you have everything you need?

Thank you, yes.
Your so charming daughter was most helpful.

- Stepdaughter.
- (Sighs)

Ah, la Belle au Bois dormant, s'�veille.

Je m'excuse, grand-p�re. Good morning.

Good morning, mademoiselle.
Luncheon will be at half past twelve.

My husband's very keen
to hear about your research.

We are flattered, aren't we, Grandfather?

Not as much as he is.

(Door closes)

Permitting that sort of behaviour
in your own garden, Vicar?

No, no. I mean it's... it's utterly unacceptable.

Now, Mr Redding's telephone number, please.

Isn't it gorgeous?

Nothing quite so beautiful
as an English summer's evening.

For our hostess? How lovely!

Not as lovely as that stuff, I hear.

Shall we?

Oh, thank you.

Bless this food to our use
and us to thy loving and faithful service

nourished by the fruit of your earth
and by the work of human hands.

May we render you true obedience, Lord,
and bend ourselves to thy will.

And make us ever needful
of the minds of others.

- (Snorts)
- Er, ever mindful of the needs of others. Amen.

ALL: Amen.

Well, I can only apologise.

The colonel's always looking for
an excuse to criticise.

I hope you're not painting Griselda
in a bathing suit?

Miss Marple, that's disgusting.

- Thank you.
- Certainly not.

But you must see it, Mr Clement.
It's at that very interesting stage.

- Like Dennis?
- Oh, ha-ha.

- Pop over tomorrow, around teatime.
- I will.

- What is this, Mary?
- Soup.

Does it have a name?

"Bits and bobs and odds and sods
and the meat ration's been cut again" soup.

(Clatter)

- Sorry.
- You're a bag of nerves this evening, Mr Hawes.

Not just tonight. May I have a glass of water?

MARY: Anyone else?
DENNIS: No, thank you.

If it wasn't for my medicine, you see...

Don't worry, you can't catch nerves.

It's a wretched affliction I bear with God's grace.

Talking of wretched afflictions, Ronnie,
Colonel Protheroe on Tuesday.

Can you get the parish accounts
into some sort of order?

- I'll try.
- I could strangle Protheroe sometimes.

- May God forgive me.
- I'd stab him.

- I'd poison him.
- I'd shoot him.

- Use my gun.
DENNIS: He's so rotten to Lettice.

- Aw.
- Just because he bought Old Hall,

he thinks he's the local squire.
You can't treat people like that.

You're quite right.
And how would you do it, Miss Marple?

I never speak lightly of murder, Mr Redding.

- I hate to tempt fate.
- Surely not in this lovely place?

We're all very ordinary in St Mary Mead,

but ordinary people sometimes do
the most astonishing things.

DENNIS: Do you really have a pistol?
- Somewhere. It's German.

- I liberated it.
- Were you wonderfully brave?

Very well-trained, but scared to death.

I'll clear in five minutes.
Fish and turnip stew - mostly turnip.

Oh, bring the apricot chutney, will you?

(Telephone rings)

St Mary Mead vicarage.

(Griselda laughs in background)

No, Frankie, I can't.

But you'll have your mum there.

Who's the magistrate?

That'll be a two-quid fine at least.

How are we ever going to save up to get a...

I am very sorry
but you have mistook a wrong number.

- I forbid you to see him!
- He was only painting me.

I wish he were doing something else,
the fuss you're making.

- Don't be common!
- Well, don't be horrid, then.

You've driven the Dufosses to bed
with your mood.

- Well, you can go too!
- Gladly.

(Colonel sighs)

- Sit down. We haven't finished.
- Good night, Lucius.

There are those who take
a romantic view of poaching, Tarrant.

I do not.

- This time, you will go to prison.
- Sir, you can't, sir!

- All right, Mum.
- Madam, sit down.

- 28 days.
- I'll lose my job, you old bastard.

29.

(Telephone rings)

St Mary Mead vicarage.

It's not fair!

- Mary?
- I'm going out!

(Door slams)

It's not just the difference in our ages, Jane.

The vicar and his wife are perfectly happy.

- They'd be happier with a child, I think.
- It would be their own.

Lettice was two when her mother died.

By the time I married Lucius,
she was too old to think of me

as anything other than the wicked stepmother.

I get on her nerves, and...

...I?m afraid she gets on mine.

That makes him angry -
even angrier than normal.

Might you have a child of your own one day?

No.

That... side of things has...

dwindled rather.

Completely.

I need tenderness, Jane.

And that's just not in his nature.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Oh, we all have to get things off
our chest occasionally.

Still... I married him for a kind of certainty.

We all wanted certainty after the war, didn't we?

I must settle for what I've got.

- Make do and mend?
- Make do.

And at least there once was someone tender,

but he didn't come back from the fighting.

(Train whistle blows)

Jane, I knew you'd come.

- I had to.
- Oh, my darling.

ANNE: There's our lift.

We'd better not keep him waiting.

(Clock chimes)

(Horn blares)
- Bloody fool!

Help me!

Are you hurt?

No. Oh!

- Yes.
- Caught her ankle.

Oh...

I'm so terribly sorry.

It wasn't your fault.

It has to support the sprain.

I have a stick in the car.

You might be able to hobble by tomorrow.

I don't want to be a hobbler, Dr Haydock.

Shall I make some tea?

(Chatter and giggling outside)
- Apparently, that won't be necessary.

It seems tea and scandal are coming to us.

(Creaking)

Oh... I am lost. The small drawing room
with the Flemish tapestry

and the magnificent ceiling?

Two down on the other side.
That's my father's study.

Oh.

- Heard me, then?
- How could I not, Dennis?

- Want to go for a ride?
- On that thing?

- Last year, we...
- I was 16 and it was fun.

Well, I haven't seen Lawrence Redding
in a sports car.

He would if he had the money,
and he'd look so wonderfully... mature.

(Giggles)

- See you tomorrow for tennis?
- Oh, yes, tennis with Dennis.

(Giggles)

LAWRENCE: How did he get on?

A month inside. Protheroe.

Mr Redding, you should shut this away.

Probably.

Here's one for you
next time you're in the Blue Boar.

You sure you don't want me to start
locking up when I go?

This is the heart of England, Mrs T.

Besides, lock up the house
and you lock out love.

(Woman guffaws)

Oh, my Lord! In her bathing suit?

The colonel won't have liked that
from what I've seen.

Looks like he's got a poker up his bum.

- At least one.
- (Giggles)

Will you be staying long
in St Mary Mead, Mrs Lester?

Sylvia, please.

- I shall have to see.
- We're not too quiet for you?

Like a millpond.
But a change is as good as a rest.

A change... from what... exactly?

My helter-skelter life, Miss Hartnell.

If you'll excuse me, I must...

I must see how Griselda's portrait
is coming along.

I do hope you like it, darling.

- Goodbye.
- Bye.

- Good afternoon, Vicar.
- Goodbye.

And what are you wearing for Mr Redding?

Just my dignity, Mrs Price-Ridley,

and a pink feather boa.

(Giggling)
- Really, Griselda!

I think I'll just refresh the pot.

Now, who'd like a stiffener in their Darjeeling?

(Giggles)

(Moaning)

- Oh, I...
(Gasps)

- Vicar...
- No...

I'd forgotten you were coming.

Is he doing Mrs Protheroe too?

Quite a busy boy with his brush.

She offered to come to London, but...

Well, I came here to get away from it and...

Well, Anne wouldn't be suited to the...
the madness of my life there.

And I wouldn't want her to be. I'm tired of it.

- I'm tired of being wild.
- You're quite wild enough for us.

I just feel that I've let you all down.

I've been happier in St Mary Mead
than I've ever been.

Even my work's better, I think.

- That's certainly less wild.
- But you must end it.

- I can't.
- Then you should consider leaving.

- Think of her reputation.
- You are the only one who knows.

Yet. You only have to sneeze
in this village for someone to...

Miss Bourne's here about next week's flowers.

(Sighs)

Oh, she's late. That's not like her.

Please, please think about what I've said.

(Telephone rings)

Old Hall. Good evening.

Yes, he is. Who shall I say?

I'll have to give a name, madam.

(Lively chatter)

What do you want, Sylvia?

To tell you something,

and see that stiff upper lip wobble

as if you were facing a firing squad.

Last cigarette?

Blindfold?

Bang.

- I'll manage the stairs by tomorrow.
GRISELDA: Dressing gown?

Yes, please.

How was the portrait?

Hmm? Oh.

A brief viewing?

Ah.

- You saw.
- I'm afraid we all did.

Griselda was horrified when I told her.

If Protheroe finds out...

Now, I know he's a brute,
but Anne married him,

and I believe in the sanctity of marriage.

(Griselda hums upstairs)

I'm so lucky.

She could have had anyone.

She chose you.

It's been the best three years of my life.

Here we are.

Hairbrush, mirror and book.

Oh...

Is it a good read?

- Betcha life it is, padre. (Laughs)
- (Laughs) Pow!

Anything else from the dressing table?

No.

Beautiful.

A perfect example for this period.

Indeed. When are you going to publish?

Autumn is the next edition of our journal.

- Ah.
- It will be all English country houses.

I will send you a copy from Paris.
I'll make a note of it.

How is France now?

France? Ah, well, what do you say?

We are getting on our feet.

How was your war?

Bad things happened.

And yours, Colonel?

Unfortunately, I, er...
I am not at liberty to discuss my service.

- Lucius...
- Hmm? Ah. Good day to you.

I'll be back on the 5.30.

I have a meeting with
Mrs Ross-Harkins after court.

ANNE: Don't forget the vicarage
at a quarter past six.

- Aren't there any sales in Melchester?
- London is London.

- Well, don't buy too much.
- (Snorts) There won't be too much!

- Dennis is taking me.
- What?

- Only to the station.
- Oh.

- Bye.
- Bye.

(Tyres screech, then a crash)

- Oh, look at this scratch!
- Well, what about my wheel?

You weren't looking, you fool!

Mind on other things, I dare say,
like those accounts.

- What do you mean?
- Well, we'll see what I mean.

Just make sure the vicar has them for six fifteen.

It does have brakes, you know, this car.

Good God, woman!

Thank you.

- Ah, Mrs Clement.
- Colonel.

Melchester?

London.

I trust your garden shed

will shortly be restored to its proper purpose.

It has never had an improper purpose.

- Clearly our standards are different.
- Clearly, I'm glad to say.

I beg your pardon?

Why are you so dreadful to Len?

He's a good, honest man who tries to set
an example of Christian charity.

Perhaps charity can begin too close to home.

Return to Melchester, please.

Mr Redding ran after the vicar
and Mrs Protheroe had her shoes off

and I'm sure you could see her petticoat.

When I went to pay my paper bill this morning,

Florrie Ranby said she wasn't at all surprised,

and, of course, Miss Marple knew
it was someone older.

The colonel read a most apt lesson on Sunday,
had he but known it:

"When lust hath conceived,

it bringeth forth sin."

I have to put this right.

My parents want me to go to Kenya,
help them manage the farm.

You could try for university.

I would if I had something else to stay for.

Dennis... Apart from anything...

well, you know Daddy,

- money or prospects.
- Nought out of two.

- You mean, if it wasn't for him?
- No.

Well, who knows?

Can't we just be friends?

You can forget about Lawrence.

Uncle Len walked in on him and your
stepmother, and he wasn't painting her.

- Shall I be mother?
- Thank you.

I do love her, you know. It's not just about...

Sex?

I keep thinking about what the vicar said
about people knowing,

and I got a very strange look
in the newsagent's from Mrs Whale.

Well, she's got wind of things.

The only reason Mr Goldworthy knew
about his wife and the GI

was when he heard Mrs Whale mention
the nylon stockings and the chewing gum.

- I'll have to leave, for Anne's sake.
- That's very brave.

Yes, well, I'll soon be over it.

You won't.

Not for a long while.

Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does it?

Hardly ever, young man.

I'll tell the vicar now.

- He won't be back from his calls yet.
- Nor will he.

There is something I could do for you,
Miss Marple. If you'd like.

(Mouths)

Mr Redding in the study.

(Sighs)

It's the right decision.

Have you told her?

- I need to find the words.
- You will.

Well, you're very trusting.

I'm not that sure of myself.

I'll clear out the shed.
Thank you for letting me set up in there.

- That was Griselda.
- I never did finish her painting.

You're a very lucky man.

Look after her for me, won't you?

Anne, I mean.

(Click clunk)

Et maintenant... Maintenant qu'est-ce qu'on fait?

Sois patient. Je dois penser.

Ah, Mary.
Erm, old Mr Abbott over at Lower Farm,

his neighbour's telephoned
to say he's poorly again,

so I won't be back by 6.15.

Apologise to Colonel Protheroe
and ask him to wait for me.

I'll be as nice as I can.

I can still see it now,

his first day in the village.

'Lt was one of those moments

when you know that nothing
will ever be the same again.

He reminded me of what might have been...

...in the days when I still hoped for happiness.

There can be happiness in acceptance,
you know, of what can't change.

Can there?

Thank you, Jane.

What for?

For not judging me.

(Vegetable peeler scrapes)

(Bell rings)

- He'll be late.
- Oh, it's all right.

- I'll wait.
- You'll have to, won't you?

Oh, thank you.

There's a sweet little crested wren
that likes this side of the woods.

Did Lawrence mention the future at all?

(Telephone rings)

I'll go, I'll go.

St Mary Mead 235.

It was for me.

- For you?
- I'm... wanted at the vicarage.

Sorry.

(Birdsong)

(Westminster chimes)

(Gunshot)

Bonsoir, Monsieur le Professeur.

Ah, bonsoir, madame.

A beautiful evening for walking, no?

If only I could.

Oh.

Goodbye, Mr Redding.

Bonsoir, madame.

O� est-ce que tu as �t�?

Oh, une petite promenade, c'est tout.

- If you're going back now, may I join you?
- Yes.

Thank you.

A large one. I've had a hell of a day.

(Clears throat)

(Doorbell rings)

LAWRENCE: Good evening, Mary.

- Wait in the study with the colonel.
- He's here?

He is.

Show me your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me.

Show me your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me.
What must I do?

What must I do?

Did you want to see me again?

Mr Redding?

- How's Mr Abbott?
- Convalescing in Bournemouth.

Someone's idea of a joke.

No, no. No.

(Police car alarm bells ring)

Detective Inspector Slack.

Leonard Clement. I'm the vicar.

The collar's a clue. Is the doctor here?

Yes.

Len, what's going on?

Half an hour, at a guess. No more
than 30 minutes before my examination.

Which was when?

Well, the vicar found him
at just gone quarter to seven.

I'm only down the road...
Say I got here at ten to.

Almost spot on.

Time of death about 6.20, then.

Better than almost.

Give the man a coconut.

"Dear Vicar,

I'm afraid I cannot wait for you any longer,

but must..."

- That's it.
- Pistol?

Yes.

Are these always open?

Usually, in this weather.

So, the vicar's called away
with a bogus message,

murderer comes in through the garden.

Victim writing a note with back turned.

That's how and when.

Just why and who?

The lady in the cottage
with a view of the back here...

- Miss Marple?
- I need to interview her.

Would you tag along?
These old maids tend to get nervous.

If you're not quite sure of something,
I'll wait until you have a little think.

Did you see anyone enter the vicarage

around 20 past six?

Yes. Mrs Protheroe.

- Is that when you think he was killed?
- It looks like it.

How's your hearing?

It's excellent.

So you would have heard
a gun fired from the vicarage?

It's hard to say. I did hear a shot
about 6.30 in the woods, I thought,

which is not unusual, but...

Whether one could tell the difference...

What about this artist, Mr Redding?

Well, he looked terribly shocked.

I assumed he'd discovered the body.

Of course, he and the colonel...

He'd been painting Lettice - in a bathing suit.

Oh, avant-garde. Is that the term?

I don't believe it.

What? At the vicarage?

- Yes, ma'am.
- Anne?

Lucius is dead.

Is it really true, Mr Hawes?

- I heard it at the station.
- Yes.

I'm on my way to the vicarage.

- Was there much blood?
- How would I know that?

No.

Do you think it was a crime of passion?

After all, Mrs Protheroe and Mr Redding...

Fornication always has consequences,

but I don't think we should jump to conclusions.

The colonel was not much liked by anyone,
was he?

No. I'm afraid not.

Of course, his appointment with the vicar
was hardly a secret.

Are there any secrets in St Mary Mead?

Lots. Yet. I hope.

I want to talk to someone.

- When was this?
- Didn't Mary hear anything?

Her wireless was turned up full blast as usual.

- No. Wait till I get there.
- She did hear the colonel sneeze very loudly.

Who's speaking to him? I'll be right there.

That's how, when and who.

Now for why.

Lawrence Redding just walked
into the station and confessed,

and he's brought the murder weapon.

Good night.

(Telephone rings)

Old Hall.

It is terrible.
We will leave on the afternoon train, of course.

Has the police an idea
of who could do this thing?

I have.

It's the police, madam.

Excuse me.

No, Inspector, he can't. He... I can't...

Why does Inspector Slack think
the colonel was shot at 20 past six?

He'd started writing a note to
the vicar saying he couldn't wait.

- He'd put the time on it.
- Had he?

And the clock stopped at just gone 6.20.

He knocked it off the desk
when he took the bullet.

Oh, dear.

I'm afraid I must put a cat amongst
the inspector's pigeons.

He was going on and on about his daughter,

which was just her silly little crush,

so I told him it was his wife
he had to worry about, just to shut him up.

Then he really started.

I thought about what I was leaving her to...

and I shot him.

(Car door closes)

Yoo-hoo!

The Chief Constable sends his regards.

Isn't that lovely? I have been of some assistance
to him from time to time.

He said.

It's the clock.

I happen to know Mrs Clement put it
a quarter of an hour fast on Sunday

to improve the vicar's punctuality.

Well, wonderful. Did it work?

- Yes.
- I'm glad to hear it.

So, either it was really
five past six when it stopped,

before the colonel even arrived
for his appointment,

or the murderer moved the hands back

to match the time on the note.

It still fits - the artistic touch.

But Mr Redding was in the lane at 20 past six.

- I saw him.
- You may well have done, Miss Marple,

but he killed the colonel at 6.45. Mary let him in.

- The vicar saw him leave.
- 6.45?

- But I only examined at ten to.
- And told me that he'd died

- within the last 30 minutes.
- At the most, I said.

6.20 or a little before, yes.

6.30... 6.40 at a pinch,

but if Redding says he shot him at 6.45,
he's lying.

And doctors are never wrong?

I've got a confession.

If the bullet in the colonel doesn't match
Redding's gun, I'll eat my handcuffs.

Sometimes, the simple explanation
is the right one.

Last night's wasn't.

I'll have someone see you out.

If he was shot at a quarter to seven,

why had he stopped in the middle
of a sentence at 20 past six?

- Anne...
- I have to telephone the police.

I'd like someone with me.

- I killed him.
- What time?

Miss Marple saw me go in at about 20 past six.

I just...

I just hated him so much, I shot him.

With?

His old service revolver.
He always kept it loaded and I took it.

- Anne, you didn't have a gun.
- It was in my bag.

You didn't have a bag.

There was nowhere else it could have been,
not in that dress.

(Telephone rings)

St Mary Mead 23...

Yes, speaking.

Is that definite?

Right.

I don't like my time wasted, Mrs Protheroe.

The bullet that killed your husband
was fired from Mr Redding's gun.

- But he did it for me.
- He didn't do it for anyone.

I released him half an hour ago.

He just happened to be carrying his gun,
which I don't believe.

And more important,
and something that you didn't think of,

if the colonel was shot at a quarter to seven,

why did he stop the note like that at 6.20?

- Oh, yes.
- Hm-hm.

(Doorbell rings)

Er...

- But if it was his gun...
- We'll find out.

He thinks I'm arresting you for murder.

- Anne!
- Lawrence!

Sealed with a loving kiss?

It's to my Frank.

Is he allowed to receive letters
when he's not breaking rocks?

He ain't doing hard labour.

Who would have thought it, though?
Mr Redding. Such a nice young man.

Nice enough to keep a gun in the house?

I blame that Mrs Protheroe.
The way she swans around.

You'd think she was in a magazine,
the look of her.

She put Mr Redding up to it, if you ask me.

Excuse me.

My football pools.

You never know.
I only just missed out on �1,000 last week.

Money is the root of all evil.

I'd give it space in my garden.

Bye.

Oh, I'd better...
I don't want to speak out of turn,

especially if it wasn't anything.

The police have released Lawrence.

- Mr Redding.
- Have they? Then, I wonder...

This must be so unsettling for you.

I can't bear it.

I was on my way to the church.
Shall we pray together?

Erm... l-I need to find Mr Charlesworth
before he closes for lunch.

I need some of those...

Oh, whatever you call them! Good and sharp.

Mrs Protheroe... was only out of my sight
for 30 seconds at most,

then she went into the shed.
Mr Redding joined her from the lane.

He told me. He was saying goodbye to her,
leaving the village.

She must have been terribly upset.

They stayed there for ten minutes or so.

The church clock struck a half hour.

They came out again,
meeting Monsieur Dufosse,

who appeared from the footpath to Old Hall.

Then his granddaughter arrived.

- Dufosse?
- Mm. Guests of the Protheroes.

- You don't keep it shut away?
- Yes, yes, I know, I know I should.

Mrs Tarrant who mucks me out
is always telling me off about that,

- and I never lock up during the day.
- Did you recognise...

When did you last see the gun
before it turned up in the study?

- Erm... the day before yesterday.
- Did you recognise the voice...

Wouldn't you prefer to rest your ankle,
Miss Marple?

No, thank you. Did you recognise
the voice on the telephone?

No. It just said to come straight over
to the vicarage

if I didn't want Lucius to find out about us.

- A man or woman?
- A woman. I think.

It did sound quite faint, as if someone
was holding the receiver away from them.

- So it could have been a man.
- Well spotted, Vicar.

- Who knew you were at Miss Marple's?
- No-one.

Someone must have seen me arrive.

Er... watching me.

My husband's dead. I...

So, you came through the garden,
and up to the French windows

and then what happened?

Yes, they were open,
but I didn't hear any voices.

I... I looked in and no-one was here,
so I went up to the shed

to see if I could find Lawrence.

- No-one here? That's impossible.
- Did you come right in?

No. I just... popped my head in.

Ah. It's the biggest aspidistra in the world.

If the colonel was here at the desk,
you wouldn't have seen him alive or dead.

Sit down.

A drink at the Blue Boar,
then you returned to see the vicar

about your situation, and then what?
The authorised version this time.

I came in. He was dead. I saw my gun.

I thought that Anne had finally had enough,
so I picked it up

- and I left.
- And you confessed to protect her.

And you returned the favour
because you thought he'd done it.

Very love's young dream.

I bet you two are down the Odeon every Friday.

Tell your guests I need to speak to them.

And don't think about leaving this village
until I say so. Go.

Erm... Sorry.

Excuse me.

You don't like Mr Clement, do you?

Nothing personal.

Vicars in general... remind me of marriage.

- Ah... of course.
- Of course what?

Miss Hartnell's cousin's maid
is seeing a butcher's boy

who delivers to your mother-in-law.

Mrs Slack has been staying with her for a...

little holiday, I gather.

A little two-month six-day holiday, so far.

- Oh, dear.
- Hm.

Of course, I've only got Mr Clement's word
about the bogus call.

Surely you don't suspect him?

- Erm...
- May I?

Please.

Hm.

6.20.

"I'm afraid I cannot wait for you any longer."

The colonel was... not the most patient of men,

but the vicar would only have been
five minutes late at 20 past six.

Mary had warned him he wouldn't be on time
when she showed him in.

Hm. 6.20.

The ink is... don't you think,

blue-black,

rather than blue?

- Yes, and the writing's smaller.
- Mm.

Thank you, Miss Marple.

That means he could have been shot after 6.20,

and then the murderer put that onto the note
and then altered the clock...

...to the time when Mrs Protheroe came here
in answer to her anonymous telephone call.

And Mr Redding's gun as the murder weapon.

Ah... (Snaps her fingers)

I think they were being... erm...

...set up as pasties.

Patsies... it is.

Mm.

Thank you, Inspector.

(Door opens)

Sorry. Sorry, I'll come back.
I was looking for some...

You're exactly where he was killed, aren't you?

How horrible. Do you know who did it?

Not yet, no.

"'Vengeance is mine. I will repay,'
saith the Lord."

Well, someone beat the Lord to it.

I need some water. For my medicine.

But supposing he was killed at 6.30?

That would tie in with the shot that you heard.

If it was from here.

You're sure the only person you saw come in
was Mrs Protheroe at 6.20?

Through the garden, certainly,
but I can't see the French windows

and the woods come right up on this side.

It would be a scramble,
but if one was determined

or if one came in through the hall.

The colonel was deaf,
so they could creep up behind him.

The hall? No, no, cos Mary would have
let them in the front door.

Hasn't she told you it's often open?

Mary!

Is this wise?

- You're not exactly green-fingered.
- Oh, don't fuss, darling! Trust me.

Pass those scissory things, would you?

Len?

Sorry.

Thank you. Ooh!

- Oh!
- Sorry to startle you, Lettice.

- You have my deepest sympathy.
- Oh. Yes.

Mm. Do you know
you've got some paint on you?

That's been there ages. I must have it cleaned.

You haven't seen a yellow beret?

- No.
- I'm sure I left it in here last week

- when I came to see Dennis.
- I'm sorry.

You? Gardening?

Well, I have to do something.

- What did you bring back yesterday?
- Hm?

- From London.
- Oh, yes, London.

- I couldn't find a thing I wanted.
- Not like you.

- Bye.
- Bye.

I had a man-to-man word with the photographer.

- He said he'd send me -
- Shh! Let me just look at you.

(Whistle blows)

(Guard shouts)

- He'll start clearing it out tomorrow.
- It's a shame.

He was on his way to getting me.
Don't you think?

Was he?

Oh, you silly man!

Yes, he's charming,

yes, he's like a breath of fresh air in the village,
yes, I was flattered, but...

no.

You are my husband, Len.

I would never deceive you.

Unless it was for the best.

There was a single bullet wound
to the back of the head,

which I concluded was the cause of death.

Did you estimate the time of death, Dr Haydock?

Between 6.20 or thereabouts
and 6.40 at the latest.

- Thank you.
- (Sylvia belches)

I showed him in at 6.15
and then went back to the kitchen.

He wasn't half looking pleased with himself,
though, like the cat that got the cream.

Then I heard him give a blooming great sneeze
about five minutes after,

and the next time I see him,

- he was dead.
- Very well, Miss Hill. Step down.

Did you know the colonel sent her young man
to prison?

- Frank Tarrant.
- Lastly, Mrs Protheroe, can you think of anyone

who might have wished your husband harm?

No. No-one at all, I'm afraid.

- Thank you.
- Although...

- Yes?
- On Monday in Melchester High Street,

he was nearly hit by a motorcycle.

Are you suggesting this was deliberate?

It didn't seem so at the time.
I just thought I should mention it.

I find that the deceased,
Colonel Lucius Alexander Protheroe,

was murdered by a person or persons unknown.

- Did you wonder about the motorbike?
- It was just going too fast.

He did come very close, though.

He or she. One couldn't tell.

By the way, when the colonel stayed late
in Melchester on Tuesday,

- what was he doing?
- Meeting Mrs Ross-Harkins, I think.

Hermione? The bishop's wife,
and his fellow magistrate of course.

Inspector, please find out who did this.

If someone tried to make it look as if...

Well, they must hate Lawrence and me
very much, and erm...

Well, I'm scared.

Wait.

(Gasps) Oh.

This was outside the French windows.

No-one at the vicarage smokes.

- Dennis sneaking a crafty one?
- Sniff.

French. Young men on leave a long time ago,
they'd bring them back from France.

When Monsieur Dufosse appeared
on the footpath,

I wonder if he'd only just turned into it
from the woods.

Look, it's easy to imagine
all kinds of things after the event,

- but the simple fact is...
- Murder is never simple.

We would be foolish, stupid,
to ignore any possibility.

We?

Did I say that?

So sorry.

I don't know whether to buy her
a box of chocs or kick away her stick.

I'd prefer the chocolates.

How marvellous that you're not in black.
It's so dreary.

- Should I know you?
- I want you to.

- Who are you?
- Ah. "Who is Sylvia?

What is she?"

Let's have a little chat.

I made a walk along the footpath.

It is very beautiful.

Did you go into the woods, Mr Dufosse?

No. Footpath only.

When do you go back to France?

We have missed the good connection now.
Tomorrow by the first train.

I might need to get in touch with you.

What's this magazine of yours called?

You'll have to spell it.

And the bishop and his wife get back tomorrow?

Would you be so kind
as to ask Hermione to telephone me

as soon as they get back to Melchester?

Jane Marple.

It might, yes.

Very important indeed.

Anne gets the hall.

You can set up on your own.
I'll help you look for somewhere.

- He's only been dead two days.
- So? You hated him.

- The killer did you a favour.
- Dennis!

- It's true.
- I'm going in.

Why did you say you lost your beret?

- You had it at tennis.
- Were you listening?

And you left before we finished.

You went soon after. The gardener told me.

But you don't think
I could have killed your father.

You don't think I care enough about you.

- I know who did it.
- There you are.

Two birds, one stone.

Perhaps you could tell me
where you both were on Tuesday evening.

Together. We played tennis.

Then we went for a walk. In the woods.

Yes, the woods, over towards Much Benham.
It was a smashing evening.

Wasn't it?

Hello, Tony? It's Joan Hargreaves.

I need a favour.
Is your place anywhere near St Mary Mead?

I left the ledgers on the desk

so you'd have them to hand
when the colonel arrived.

You don't think the... murderer took them?

No. I expect Mary's been moving things.

Were they all in order, by the way?

Mrs Price-Ridley's pound note
was in with the jumble sale money.

I went over the last six months
and it all balances.

As we knew it would.

"Lust bringeth forth sin

and sin bringeth forth death."

I... I can't stay in here.

(Door slams)

LAWRENCE: I don't know what to do.

Suddenly, we just seem so... distant.

What would you like to do?

Oh...

Walk away, just the two of us,
into a crisp and snowy morning.

(Coughs) Then paint it.

The sneeze that Mary heard,
that could have been the murderer, couldn't it?

And Anne was there.

I just hope she's safe.

(Door creaks)

(Door creaks)

(Clock chimes)

He is early, your friend. Good.

Bonjour.

The magazine you work for
went out of business before the war.

Now, what have you got? The silver?

DUFOSSE: My grandson, Henri.

MISS HARGREAVES:
He would have been my husband.

We met in 1943.

- He was in the Resistance.
- And you, Miss Hargreaves?

Special Operations.

I was dropped into France,
working with Henri and his crew.

- The colonel?
- He commanded a desk in London.

Il a trahi Henri.

- He betrayed him.
- He betrayed my grandson.

Protheroe's section was responsible
for supplying our region,

weapons, detonators and so on.

Early In '44, he had to organise a money drop,
tens of thousands of francs in cash.

Henri and I waited
at the rendezvous he'd given us,

but the plane went over
and dropped the canister a mile away.

- Why?
- The rendezvous was false.

The money was picked up
by a man called Lacombe,

one of our group, who had known
Protheroe before the war.

It was simple greed.

After the war, they divided it between them.

Lacombe and the colonel.

Lacombe made a confession to me,
last year when he was dying.

That's the proof: Bank transfers, statements,
Lacombe's instructions.

What happened to Henri?

Lacombe had tipped off the Germans
and they came for us.

I escaped.

- He did not.
- He was tortured... until death.

My grandson.

- I'm very sorry.
- And so am I.

So am I. I'll tell you the truth.

I had to kill that son of a bitch, the colonel!

Because of him. And so,

I got my pistol, I went to the woods,

up to the vicarage,

through the French windows and into the study.

- Ah...
- Yes, Mr Dufosse?

I was too late.

I was too damn late!

He was dead.

(Gasps)

- Are you saying?
- I'm saying...

he was already dead.

Thankfully.

You're quite good at this.

- I've had to learn.
- Oh.

So, if what he told you is true,
the colonel was dead by 6.30,

when Monsieur Dufosse joined the others.

Only just, if the shot you heard was the murder.

- Do you believe him?
- Yes.

The interesting thing is
what Monsieur Dufosse saw in the study.

He described the gun as having a long barrel,

you know, like the old Wild West ones?

And he thought the note

was a good half page long,
not just a couple of lines.

- That is interesting.
- I don't know how reliable he is.

He had just come in out of bright sunlight...

...and he is getting on.

You've missed a bit.

Oh.

The note...

Have you shown it to Mrs Protheroe?

No, actually.

She's at the vicarage now, I believe.

Funeral arrangements.

ANNE: Neither is in his writing,
not the time or the words.

I don't understand.

You're not alone
at this stage of the investigation.

Do you have any examples
of the colonel's handwriting?

Yes, of course.

I found it yesterday under the desk.

It's not Griselda's.

- It's Anne's.
- (Doorbell)

- Should I give it to the inspector?
- No.

Not just yet.

MAN: Sir, can I have a word?

Oh...

How very unpleasant.

The verse?

"To avoid fornication,
let every man have his own wife

and let every woman have her own husband."

The motorbike was stolen in the morning
and dumped soon after the incident.

Such a... crude and uncertain way
of killing someone,

- unless it was just meant to frighten him.
- I, er...

- I must get on with my visiting.
- I can... see myself out.

We'll get back to Mrs Protheroe.

Hello, Miss Marple.

I was thinking about leaving this one.

- I might come back and finish it one day.
- When do you go?

I don't know. Tomorrow or the next day.

As soon as I can clean out the cottage.

Back to London?

I was thinking about Ireland.

Put some real distance between us.

You'll find a new life in time.

- But Anne won't, will she?
- I'll do my best for her.

She's a good friend.

Thank you. Thank you for everything.

(Sobs)

(Knock at door)

You've been crying?

Pot and kettle, dear.

I have some things to discuss.

Not very clever to use your scented notepaper.

Where are people's standards?
That's what worries me.

This young man Mrs Clement was seen with
in Melchester...

Miss Hartnell said he was rather handsome
and he gave her flowers.

I'm sure there's an innocent explanation,
but even so,

really, Marjorie...

(Sighs) I'm so ashamed, Jane.

What would Bruce think of me? And Andrew?

That you sometimes get very lonely.

- Yes.
- And Anne Protheroe's standards...

You weren't to know
the colonel had been murdered

when you telephoned her at my cottage,
but even so,

it put her in a very difficult position
when she went there.

That wasn't me!

- When's the funeral?
- Tuesday afternoon.

Ah. I'm in London all morning.

I hope the trains are better than last Tuesday.

- I had to cadge a lift back.
- The day of the murder?

Chaos. Not a single train
to St Mary Mead the whole afternoon.

Every time we tell a lie...

...we are offending God.

"The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately wicked.

Who can know it?"

Well, God can.

He sees into our hearts and searches them,

to give every man according to his ways

and according to the fruit of his doings.

Let us, then, keep our hearts pure

so we may say with Paul,

"I have lived in all good conscience before God."

- Oh, bad luck.
- It wasn't luck.

Someone stabbed my tyre.

Such a violent thing to do.

With everything that's been going on, I'm...

I'm terrified, Mr Redding.

Well, I'll walk you to your digs if you'd like.

- Oh, yes, please. Would you? (Sneezes)
- Bless you.

Thank you.

LETTICE: Ahem...

Yes?

I want to...

live in all good conscience.

May I introduce you

to my mother?

I know. I know I'm not a very good
advertisement for motherhood.

I don't want an advertisement.

Why did the colonel divorce you, may I ask?

I had a... tiny, tiny fling.

I like parties and people,

but Lucius wanted to clip my wings.

He offered me an allowance in return...

In return for never seeing me again.

- Until now.
- It's taken me six years

since my second husband died
to get my courage up.

Dutch courage, mostly.

I'm not very proud of myself.

You're here now, Mother.

I thought you were dead.

Never mind the hearts and flowers.

Look, when Protheroe came to your room...

We have a witness.
Were you trying to blackmail him?

Lord, no! I'm very well set up.

No. I just told him I wanted to see
my lovely daughter Lettice.

She's going to reform me.

- You're all I've got.
- She sees me in a cottage,

- baking jam and knitting... things.
- (Leonard laughs)

As long as we can have
an occasional cruise, dear.

Lettice...

may I have a private word?

- It's Anne's.
- It was under the desk

where your father was murdered.

- I knew it was her. Tell the police.
- Did you put it there

when you were pretending
to look for your beret?

She wasn't wearing those earrings
on the day of the murder.

- Wasn't she?
- Oh, Lettice, it's me.

All right, but I don't see
what difference it makes, Miss Marple.

She killed him somehow,
so she could get her hands on Lawrence.

- Lettice...
- What?

The red paint on your dress was new, wasn't it?

You'd just been in the shed.

So? I heard you all coming and I had to hide.

I must have brushed against something.

It was magenta, anyway.

The colour of passion, Lawrence says.

MISS MARPLE: You know, Hermione,
I'll have to tell the police.

Thank you, dear.

When the colonel kept his appointment
at the vicarage,

he had just learnt that Mr Hawes left
his last parish under a cloud.

The bishop kept it from the vicar
to give him another chance.

- What had he done?
- Fiddled the accounts.

(Doorbell rings)

Ronnie's tried to kill himself.

Dr Haydock's there and he's found a statement
from Colonel Protheroe accusing him...

- Accusing him of stealing?
- Yes.

I owe you a box of chocs.

Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does it?

Hardly ever.

- Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does it?
- Hardly ever, young man.

How clever!

How wicked!

DR HAYDOCK: The gas was full on,

and that much sedative
would have put him to sleep quite quickly.

Another few minutes
and he would have cheated the hangman.

"Note of conversation today regarding
Ronald Hawes, curate of St Mary Mead.

Previous embezzlement of funds..."
It's all here.

Monsieur Dufosse said
the note he saw was longer.

The accounts.
He told me he'd left them in the study.

Lawrence Redding can tell us his state of mind.

The landlady said he came in with him
and stayed talking.

(Motorcycle approaches)

- Running well now, isn't she?
- Ooh.

I've got it, Inspector.

Lettice was right.

Anne Protheroe did kill her husband.

Anne and Lawrence Redding.

They made themselves the obvious suspects
by ensuring their secret was out,

knowing that if their plan worked,
they would later appear above suspicion.

- Oh!
- I forgot you were coming.

Which, of course, he had not,

any more than Anne Protheroe
chose the Toby Jug just for a change.

Mr Redding wasn't trying
to run the colonel down.

He knew it would help them muddy the waters

when Anne mentioned it at the inquest.

- Bloody fool!
- Oh!

They were making sure
I'd be a captive audience

for their little charade, in a ringside seat.

(Mouths)

He must have had his gun with him then,
and a silencer.

Monsieur Dufosse, remember,
spoke of a long barrel.

Mr Redding in the study.

It's the right decision.

- Have you told her?
- I need to find the words.

Then, he made two telephone calls,

the first to get the vicar out of the way
by pretending to be Mr Abbot's neighbour.

Mary, old Mr Abbot at Lower Farm,
his neighbour's telephoned to say he's poorly.

The second to my cottage.

St Mary Mead 235.

We're all set, darling.

It was for me. Sorry.

She knew I'd see
she couldn't have a gun with her

when she went into the vicarage at 20 past six.

Which was when you shot your husband.

"Coffee and cake," you said,
when you telephoned.

Where's Lawrence.

Under arrest by now.

The loud sneeze that Mary heard at 6.20

was your silenced pistol, Mr Redding,
fired by Mrs Protheroe.

The shot at 6.30 had me puzzled,

until Miss Marple found what she did.

It didn't come from the woods or from the house.
It came from the shed.

(Gunshot)

So, she goes off with the Dufosses
and you go to the Blue Boar.

A large one. I've had a hell of a day.

Then you return to the vicarage
on the pretext of seeing Mr Clement again,

knowing he wouldn't be back
from his wild-goose chase.

Wait in the study with the colonel.

- He's here?
- He is.

You remove the murder weapon

and leave a forged note
with deliberate mistakes.

Different handwriting in different inks

on vicarage notepaper you'd taken previously.

A shock to find a statement from the colonel,
but it might come in useful.

You reset the clock, knowing it was fast...

... all to make us think Mrs Protheroe
was being falsely implicated

in her husband's murder.

And the colonel's statement did come in useful
last night, didn't it?

As you now had evidence of a motive,

enough to frame Mr Hawes for the murder.

Oh, bad luck.

"Calm down, Ronnie. I'll mix your medicine..."

and turn on the gas as you drift away

and leave the colonel's note by the body.

But murder, Anne?

For a stranger who reminded you
of what might have been?

He wasn't a stranger.

But I was right when I said
that nothing was ever the same again.

It was Lawrence who didn't come back
from the fighting...

except that he did,
four years after he'd been reported dead,

and by then, I was Mrs Protheroe.

He found you?

He was too decent to try
when he heard I'd married.

I found him.

A magazine article about the rising
young artist back from the dead.

What did we do wrong?

You ask me that?

What mistake did we make?

When you came out of the shed with him,
you were the same woman.

You hadn't said goodbye forever
to the man you loved.

- You could tell that?
- You think I've never...

I lost someone in the war...

...who got a medal for dying.

His wife will have cherished it.

His wife?

Easier for you, then, Jane.

He was dead.

You didn't have to choose between
right and wrong.

When you volunteered, darling,
you made a choice to do your duty.

- Yes.
- I've had to make a choice too.

I've chosen to do my duty.

Come back safe, but for your wife, not for me.

Jane...

Please, if I can't come back for you,
then there's...

(Guard's whistle)

Jane!

(Train whistle blows)

Jane!

(Knock at door)

Lawrence! Lawrence!

It was the apricot chutney with fish stew
that gave me an inkling.

- (Both laugh)
- When did you find out?

- My cousin called this morning to confirm it.
- Of course!

He's that doctor in Melchester, isn't he?
Rather a handsome young man.

I didn't want to see Dr Haydock.

Well, you know village gossip.

And I wanted to be sure first.

She told me she'd gone to London.

I never suspected a thing.

(Church bell chimes)

PRIEST: Our Father, who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name,

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil...

(Trapdoor opens)