Original subtitles

Madame Asher was wearing new stockings.

Betty Barnard was strangled with the same make of stockings.

Come on, just a short stroll.

There must be a code.

There is a code. The code is me.

Oh, Mr Cust, you're the killer.

I'm a travelling salesman. I sell stockings.

We must prepare for the wrath of God.

HE SIGHS

There he is! Are you making any progress, Inspector?

THEY SHOUT OVER EACH OTHER

Is the killer even English?

CLOCK TICKS GENTLY

No, leave my clothes.

I'll put them away myself.

DOOR CLOSES

Franklin.

Good morning.

Seem rather poorly, Mr Cust.

You seem very poorly in your head.

I don't want to be a monster.

Why isn't he writing?

Because this wasn't part of the plan.

This wasn't prepared.

The mistake at Doncaster has changed everything.

We will not receive any more letters.

You'd think he'd know what I said by now.

I know what they say to me.

It's what they say about the killer that I'm looking for.

- They say he's mad. - More than that.

Words speak us more than we speak them.

Words speak us.

Clear as mud.

Sir, you should remember what they did to Japp,

because...

And you're sneaking him in up the back stairs!

Getting me to sneak him in.

Go and make me a cup of tea.

That's not really my job, sir. It is now.

Happy days, you got promoted. Two sugars.

"I will be a faceless beast."

"Faceless beast."

Why faceless?

Because it's more frightening.

- Because we don't know who he is. - Or because I do.

They know me, they dress like me, so, somehow, I must know them, too.

I must know their face.

- I must. - Why ARE they dressing like you?

What did you do to make them hate you so much?

I do not know.

You said the killer had details about your life

from the moment you got here.

What about before 1914?

Could someone have followed you here, someone who hates you?

Or a son of someone who hates you?

What about before...

in Belgium?

It is not relevant.

Where's my bloody tea?

DOOR CLOSES

GUNSHOT

THEY SCREAM

STEAM TRAIN POWERS ALONG

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS

Embsay, next station.

Next station is Embsay.

RADIO: Police sources say the murder of comedian Benny Groom in Doncaster

two days ago by the killer known as ABC was likely to be an error.

But would neither confirm nor deny if this meant that the previous

pattern of killings, based on the victim's name,

was still applicable.

Nonetheless, towns and villages across the country beginning

with the letter E are paralysed with fear.

Meanwhile, the murders of Alice Asher, Elizabeth "Betty" Barnard

and Sir Carmichael Clarke remain unsolved,

and the perpetrator remains at large.

HE WHISTLES

You all right in there, sir?

HE KNOCKS ON DOOR

You all right in there?

HE BANGS ON DOOR

HE OPENS DOOR

Jesus...

Call the police!

Call the police! Help!

Help!

The killer is at large.

He could still be in the Embsay area.

I want every inch of ground covered, every morsel of evidence gathered.

Let's get this bastard.

You heard the inspector. Come on!

Found it, sir, the knife!

Edwards, Ernie Edwards... a gent, always very polite.

We've got the knife. And his hat and coat.

There's nothing in the pockets, but we've got them.

Was he married?

A widower.

But word is he had a lady friend.

Men buy lady friends gifts.

Shops will fleece you every which way.

They're a bastard, shops.

But door-to-door, now that's gold.

No overheads, see? Salesmen.

Salesmen, they buy the stock,

they're responsible for the stock, they sell, they earn.

It's got sod all to do with me.

Sound simple? I wish.

Got ulcers eating me alive.

WHISPERS: I've got haemorrhoids. Oh, God's curse.

Now, Mr Poirot, what is it that you wanted?

A list of your salespeople.

Yvonne! Did you hear that?

In London, Monsieur Prynne.

London?

We don't do London. Twinkle Toes is strictly north...

Manchester, Leeds, Liverpool, Newcastle.

Never London... I hate cockneys.

They're villains, every single last one of them.

Had a bulk buy.

London, PO Box in Fulham, did it meself.

Yvonne! You know how I feel!

It was a bulk buy, Sydney.

HE SIGHS

The name of the person ordering?

No name, just the request and cash in an envelope.

We did get a letter from a fruitcake in London, though.

Well, you get habituated to funny letters when you're in ladies' hose.

Some of the things they write, they make your hair stand on end!

Do you still have that letter, Madame?

Er...

That young lady that was strangled with a stocking,

by ABC in that beach hut...

her stocking, wasn't it...

wasn't a Twinkle Toes, was it?

It was.

Oh. Poor kid.

This is it.

"Dear sirs, I followed your instructions to the letter,

"and am now in residence and ready to begin my venture

"with Twinkle Toes.

"The coat is the best quality that I have ever owned

"and I will take very good care of it, and only wear it when engaged

"upon your business."

Coat? Coat? What's he talking about?

"I promise that I will be a most loyal

"and dedicated representative of your product.

"Yours faithfully, Alexander Beakles..."

May I?

"I followed your instructions to the letter."

I need to make a telephone call.

SIREN FLARES

BRAKES SQUEAL

What did I tell you, eh?

Always the quiet ones, always.

There, you see, I was right.

That's why you should listen to me. I know things.

SHE SIGHS

We've got him.

Why don't you come in the house, Miss?

Sit quietly with your mother till this is done.

HE PANTS

- Ellie? - Don't go back to the house.

- What? - Police are here for you.

Don't go back.

Go somewhere else, Mr Cust.

Go quick.

Alexander Bonaparte Cust...

- ABC. - Run!

Run!

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS

Go! Go! Go!

HE SCREAMS

HE STRUGGLES

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS

I want him alive!

Don't you dare let him die, I want him alive!

You dusted the typewriter for fingerprints?

All his, except for a few.

He planned it all in here.

It's a real shithole.

Appropriate, really.

- Will he live? - Long enough.

Some sort of brain growth, apparently.

He's a strange one, no mistake.

When they stripped him off at the hospital,

they found all these holes in his back,

like he'd been hammering nails into himself.

Religious fanatic, maybe.

Makes no odds. He'll face trial.

Tumour won't kill him, the law will do that.

I wish to see him.

And please telephone your colleagues in Andover

and ensure that Peter Asher is released from prison.

He is innocent.

Forgot about him.

He said I was a... good man.

Japp told you I was a...

good man.

He did.

Well, he'd be pleased with this.

The result.

He'd be pleased.

That was a good hunch on the stockings.

You were right about them.

I was listening.

Are you going to see him?

I am.

Will you tell him I've got his backgammon case?

I sneaked it away.

Got it hidden.

He might want it.

He's very sick, Mademoiselle.

I thought he was poorly.

Tell me, Mademoiselle...

Lily, just Lily.

Mr Cust received no visitors, but did he receive letters?

He got parcels that came before he arrived,

and then a letter and parcels came later.

And they would have arrived after the Doncaster murder?

Yeah. They did.

You warned him because you thought he could not have done it. Why?

Tell me how Mr Cust could have killed that man

in Doncaster during the four o'clock race, and be home by seven.

I know he was home by seven because...

You were walking on his back, and you'd broken a sharp heel.

The pain of that would have been a distraction

from the agony in his skull.

Those floors want mopping.

You're on borrowed time with me, girl.

I wish I'd used a knitting needle on you.

Get out of my sight!

You abuse your daughter, Madame?

How long are you going to be?

As long as I want.

Hanging's too good for him, what he did to our darling Betty.

I'd put the rope around his neck myself,

and there's not a man in England who'd judge me for it.

SHE CRIES

Lady... Thora... Clarke.

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

POIROT: Do you know me?

I know of you.

But you wrote me this intimate letter, and many others.

"I followed you the other day.

"You looked old and tired.

"You looked sad.

"I was rather concerned for you."

I don't remember writing this.

I must have done.

I say that.

"Chin-chin."

And I went to all of those places.

They were all on the list that Twinkle Toes gave me.

The list?

They said it was easier for new salesmen to work alphabetically.

They sent a list.

It was so helpful.

I wasn't very good at selling stockings, though.

Mr Cust, the manager of Twinkle Toes has never heard of you.

How did you acquire the typewriter?

It was given to me.

And was the idea to sell stockings door-to-door

given to you as well...

by someone whom you had once played backgammon with?

You lost to them but they were kind,

suggested a way in which you could make a living,

suggested a place where you could find a room,

and then the packages of stockings arrived,

and the ABC railway guides, and the clothes, so you could be smart,

make a good impression.

The hat, coat.

- Yes. - And you got instructions, where to go, what date,

a list of names and addresses where you might sell the stockings

in alphabetical order, very methodical, practical?

Yes.

I like order.

Without it, without instruction, I...

get rather lost.

Would you remember this person?

I don't know.

I have such terrible blanknesses.

Sometimes faces go,

I wake up in places, and I can't remember how I got there.

Sometimes there is blood...

on me.

There was the knife...

and all those dead people.

I don't want to be a monster.

You're not, Monsieur.

I'm going back on the last train to be with Hermione.

She's so weak, but she wanted me to thank you.

I'm sure she does.

She always used to say to Carmichael

that you were the best birthday present he ever gave her. True.

After that party, if there was a treat or even if she just wanted

to get someone's attention, she would use your phrase.

"Mes enfants," she'd say, and clap her hands.

Where did that come from, that phrase, "Mes enfants"?

"My children," why that?

Merely a verbal flourish.

People found it entertaining,

and when you are a stranger in a strange land,

it helps to be entertaining.

Yes, I can only imagine.

You're looking better.

I hope you don't mind me saying

but I was rather... concerned for you before.

Yes, I'm feeling well.

Good.

My brother always said that every man needs a purpose.

GLASSES CLINK LOUDLY

You have yours, and I...

Well, I think I've just found mine.

I'm going to be a husband.

- Miss Grey? - Yes.

I'm very much in love with her. Well, more than in love.

I'm utterly enthralled.

When this is all over, I'm going to pop the question.

Of course, she might not say yes.

I am certain she will.

I do hope you're right.

I'll be a broken man if she doesn't.

Thank you so much for enabling me

to tell Hermione that ABC has been caught.

That Carmichael and the others would have justice.

I had no choice.

I was bound.

I gave my word to the dead.

DOORS CLICK

LIFT DESCENDS

ETHEREAL VOICE: I was rather concerned for you.

TRAIN WHISTLE BLOWS

SHE SETS KEYS DOWN

I found it in your wardrobe.

What do you want?

CARRIAGE DOOR OPENS

Prove that I knew.

Prove that I covered for Franklin.

You can't.

Well, then...

kindly leave.

I'm an innocent woman, and I wish to get changed.

Where are my clothes?!

Your hotel bill has not been settled.

None of the bills for your dresses, your hats,

your shoes, have been settled.

Franklin has no money until Lady Hermione dies.

She is still living. Just.

My furs, my furs, no, no, no, that's mine! That's mine!

He would have killed you as well.

You know that really.

Don't you pity me.

SHE OPENS DOOR

DOOR SLAMS SHUT

Franklin's fingerprints match the unknown ones on the typewriter.

The artifice in the letters was ventriloquism.

Monsieur Cust was being worked.

Words put into his mouth.

I used to make a living at this.

Well, then, you need a new living, my friend.

It's hard.

You need someone to recommend you, and I don't know anyone.

Well, you know me now.

Got some friends in sales, and I'm going to do you a favour, Mr Cust.

Sometimes the stars align.

Chin-chin.

I'm sick of these hazards in my vestibule.

Let me carry them up for you, Madam.

This way, is it?

Franklin?

SHE GASPS

If you want to stay alive...

Sssh.

TELEPHONE RINGS

Churston, 9-6-6.

Darling, can you ask Car to come to the telephone?

I was in the bath. Is there something wrong?

WOMAN CRIES

Come on now, I'm sorry, don't cry.

I shouldn't have shouted at you.

I'm sorry.

Come here.

Come on, now, don't cry.

Keep going. He's still out there listening.

Keep going.

SHE CRIES

Why aren't you on the train, you fucking idiot?

Someone there. Can you help me, please?

Please. Help me.

Sometimes, Alexander Bonaparte Cust,

the stars align.

And you are outliving your usefulness.

CUST CONTINUES CONVULSING ON FLOOR

Chin-chin.

What were you?

Before?

If not a policeman, then what?

HE SIGHS

That's a foolish headline.

"Of a new and cruel age."

Such vapid nostalgia for the gentle past.

Cruelty is not new.

Well, we were going to get married anyway, weren't we?

I know you're still keen.

We've both talked it over, and it's the best idea,

and then I get to keep Donald in the family.

You're stood there like a goldfish. You're going to be Mrs Fraser!

I'll get the sherry!

I did you a favour.

One day, you'll work that out.

Excuse me, could I trouble you for a light?

Thank you very much.

You're very welcome.

- It's awful cold this evening, isn't it? - Yes.

Lily.

Lily!

Lily!

Lily!

SHE CRIES

LILY!

He might not wake up, you know.

But, then again, he might.

And then he'll want to see a face he knows.

So, I'll wait here, if it's all the same to you.

REPORTERS SHOUT OVER EACH OTHER

Shame on yourself! How do you sleep at night?

Hang him!

SHOUTING CONTINUES

All right, that's enough! All right!

GUNSHOT

THEY SCREAM

THEY GASP

DOOR CLOSES

GUNSHOT

WHITE NOISE

WHITE NOISE BECOMES SOUND OF FIRE

GLASS BREAKS

HE SIGHS

INTERNAL VOICE: Assassin.

KEYS TURN HEAVY LOCK

PRISON DOOR OPENS

What a treat.

You've gone to so much trouble.

Thank you.

CLARKE CHUCKLES

That bloody brandy glass, eh?

That's what did it for me, isn't it?

My fingerprints, on the brandy glass.

The moral of the story being...

never have a drink with Hercule Poirot.

You're having one now.

Yes.

Chin-chin.

HE SLURPS GENTLY

All that time you were looking for enemies, for someone who hated you,

you never thought to look for a friend,

for someone who loved you.

I doubt you know the meaning of the word...

No, that's not true.

I adored Hermione.

And Carmichael.

You killed him for his title and his money.

Well, yes, there is that.

And you killed Alice Asher and Betty Barnard

to distract from his murder.

Doncaster was another distraction.

Doncaster, what a cock-up.

If that had gone right, I could have stopped.

No, you couldn't.

No, I couldn't. You're right.

I got such a taste for it by then.

So bloody exciting.

Not the murders so much, no, they were appallingly messy.

No, it was you.

I never felt so completely alive...

than when you were chasing me.

Knowing I was restoring you.

I did not need to be restored.

Oh, come on. You were ruined.

You were disgraced,

derided and reviled, and I thought...

not on my watch.

And the moment I saw Cust's initials,

the whole adventure came together, and I thought how you'd love it.

Of course, it took a lot of organisation and detective work,

but it was worth it.

Because look at you now, Hercule.

Bright eyed and bushy tailed, revived and...

restored.

Franklin, five people are dead.

Well, people die all the time, don't they?

And, really, it's your fault.

How is it my fault?

Hermione's birthday party.

Those strange, little games.

How to get away with murder...

the myriad ways to end a life.

I was spellbound.

I felt such kinship with you.

That's why I chose the costume, you see.

The dark, the light, the hunter, the hunted.

Two hearts beating the same hot blood.

You and your strange enchantments, Hercule.

You didn't know the knife you were sharpening.

HE SLURPS GENTLY

Franklin, I didn't cast a spell on you.

You were kindling, lying in wait for a spark.

I fear your soul is a charnel house.

I grieve for you.

I wanted so much for you to admire me.

To be a worthy adversary, someone you could share your secrets with.

- I do not have secrets. - You lie!

We're friends.

What compels you, Hercule?

Tell me.

What drives you?

Were you always like this?

Is there another Hercule that got left behind?

What dead did you give your word to?

That scar looks deep. It must have hurt.

How did you get it?

Did it make you like this?

Tell me.

Tell me your secrets.

I won't breathe a word.

I won't be breathing at all.

I gave you the breakfast you requested.

You get nothing else.

As if prayers are going to make the slightest difference.

WHISPERS: You're going to miss me, Hercule.

KEY TURNS HEAVY LOCK

PRISON DOOR OPENS

DOOR OPENS

TRAP DOOR OPENS