Original subtitles

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That's peculiar.

I say!

I say.

I say. Aah!

You saw nobody apart from the woman and the man?

Ain't I telling you? I never looked.

What were you doing off the Grinders that day?

Wimsey: He is certainly lying, Inspector.

But about what, and why?

(Knock on door)

Excuse me, sir.

There's a gentleman here from Seahampton. A dealer in old coins.

He saw the picture of Paul Alexis in the paper

and thought you ought to know something.

Alexis did what?

He drew his last £300 out of his bank account

and bought 300 gold sovereigns.

What kind of man spends his last savings

on 300 gold sovereigns,

buys a return ticket to Darley,

walks to an isolated rock, and cuts his throat?

As Bunter would say, "a very gratifying mystery."

But look here.

I say if he did have £300 in gold sovereigns on him,

it does give someone a motive for murder.

Hmm. The Inspector thinks

that old Pollock rowed in to the shore,

stole the money, and cut Alexis' throat.

It would explain why his grandson went to Ireland...

To dispose of the gold.

Personally, I think the gold

might have a rather different significance.

(Knock on door)

I hope I'm not intruding, Miss Vane,

but I thought you and Lord Peter

might like a nice cup of tea and some fancies.

That's very kind of you, Mrs. Lefranc.

Think nothing of it, my dear.

I always say I'm not against

my ladies seeing their gentlemen friends,

nor contrariwise,

provided there's no trouble caused.

Mrs. Lefranc, according to what Miss Vane has told me,

you knew Paul Alexis pretty well.

Can you think of any reason

why he might have wanted to commit suicide?

Indeed, my lord, I cannot.

And you could have knocked me down with a feather.

Why, only the night before, he was in such spirits.

Laughing and joking, he was, and talking wild.

He'd just had one of them foreign letters.

All stuck over with foreign stamps

and addressed in funny handwriting.

He used to get so excited when one of them came.

He was just like a little boy.

"Ma," he used to say, "when my ship comes in,

"I'll give you a tiara stuck full of diamonds

and make you Housekeeper to Royalty."

Royalty?

I think that was just his way of talking.

And one of these letters arrived just this morning?

It must have been a long one,

for he was shut in this very room that Tuesday night.

Hours and hours he was, poring over it.

Oh, thank you, Ma.

You know, Ma, one of these days

you'll find that I've spread my wings and flown away.

Drink your tea.

Poor boy. I can see now

that was just his way of breaking it to me.

But how could I guess?

He was in such spirits,

and that very morning he gave me his week's money.

"I know it's early," he said...

Because of course it's not due until Saturday...

"but if I give it to you now, it'll be safe."

And out he went, and I never saw him again.

Oh. Here's your latchkey, dear.

I had a new one cut because poor Mr. Alexis

took his away with him... when he went.

Well, drink your tea while it's hot,

and enjoy your fancies.

Thank you.

My lord.

High spirits.

Took his latchkey,

to say nothing of buying a return ticket.

But he did pay her a week's lodgings

before it was due, which suggests to me

that he knew he wasn't coming back.

I'm still putting my shirt on murder.

I've brought a little list of suspects.

I thought it might help to go through them.

By all means.

Um, first of all, Perkins... thank you...the hiker.

That was his name, wasn't it?

Oh, yes. The man I met on the road

Who was so terrified of encountering the murderer,

he turned and walked back with me to Darley.

Unless he was the murderer

and wanted to keep an eye on you.

I suppose that's possible.

He did appear rather unexpectedly,

and then disappeared as soon as I got to Darley

to telephone the police.

You don't think that he and Bright

could be one and the same?

Oh, no. no, definitely not.

Perkins was think and weedy, but he was a different build.

He didn't have one shoulder higher than the other.

Then number two is Mr. Bright, the itinerant barber,

in possession of the razor, and gives an unconvincing story

of conveying it to Alexis.

Bright: A funny way he had of talking.

quick and sort of poetic, you know.

So he put the razor in his pocket and he said,

"Funny we should meet tonight.

two minds with but a single thought."

And then off he went.

Have a fancy.

Oh. Um, no, thanks.

Number three?

Old Pollock, the fisherman.

If his grandson ever gets back from Ireland,

we might found out what he was doing off the Grinders.

You think that's important?

Only if it prevented him from speaking the truth

about who was on the shore.

Number four must be Haviland Martin.

Yes. Your mysterious camper.

He arrived just before the death

and left just after.

Harriet: Are we anywhere near Darley?

Yes, ten minutes down the road.

First right, half a mile inland.

He deliberately chose a campsite right by the sea.

With access to a horse

that could have conveyed him to the flat-iron rock.

Surely I'd have seen the horse from down on the beach.

Not if he'd slapped it on the rump and sent it home.

And then, seeing you approaching,

hid in the niche of the rock.

Why didn't Pollock see him from his fishing boat?

Maybe he did see him and he's lying.

So, Haviland Martin is our favourite so far.

We've yet to establish a motive.

The only person we know to have had a perfect motive

is Henry Weldon, who was quite determined

that his mother shouldn't marry Paul Alexis.

And as far as we know, he was in Lincolnshire.

However, Bunter, at my suggestion,

has taken the liberty of checking up on our Mr. Weldon.

I might beat him to it.

I'm going to do a little private detecting myself.

Oh?

Henry Weldon has invited me out tomorrow

with his mother.

I think he wants to pump me,

but I shall pump him instead.

I shall buy a big hat and a flowery dress

and high heel shoes and vamp him.

What an appalling idea.

No, not really.

It's in my interest to establish

whether or not he's a possible murderer.

You've left out one suspect.

Harriet Vane.

Recently tried for the murder of her lover

and acquitted by the skin of her teeth.

Says she saw Alexis dead at around 2:00

But can bring no evidence to prove she didn't kill him.

Took three hours to walk four and a half miles

to telephone the police,

by which time the body had been washed away.

Claims to have met Perkins on the road

but can neither produce him

nor any evidence that he exists.

The police suspected her from the beginning

and probably still do.

I'm sure they don't.

You do realize they searched my room at the resplendent?

Did they, by God? I shall have something to say

to Inspector Trethowan about that.

Oh, for God's sake, Peter, spare me your knight errantry.

Do you think I don't know why you came galloping down here

at five minutes' notice?

Do you think it makes it pleasant for me to know

that it is only the patronage of Lord Peter Wimsey

that prevents Trethowan from being openly hostile to me?

I suppose you thought I was being rather brazen,

getting publicity out of the thing.

What did you expect me to do,

wait for the newspapers to drag the juicy bits

out of the dustbins for themselves?

What did Salcombe Hardy say when he telephoned you?

"I say, Wimsey, that Vane woman

has got herself mixed up in another murder"?

And what did you say to him?

Threaten to kick his teeth in if he didn't show me respect?

No, not... not quite, but pretty near.

I wish you'd stop meddling in my affairs.

I know I'm supposed to be grateful,

and you think if you go on protecting me long enough,

I'll eventually be softened and weakened and...

Fall into my arms? Oh, Harriet,

do give me the credit of a little intelligence.

Do you think I don't know I'd stand a better chance

if I was deaf, blind, maimed, and starving

so that you could have the fun of being magnanimous?

That's a beastly thing to say. Is it?

Why do you think I treat my own sincerest feelings

like something out of a comic opera

if it isn't to save myself from the humiliation

of seeing you trying not to be nauseated by them?

Do me the justice of remembering that you can hurt me

a damn sight more than I can hurt you.

I'm sorry. I'm being horribly ungrateful.

Oh, hell! Am I never to stop hearing the bleat

of that filthy adjective? I don't want gratitude.

I don't want kindness. I don't want sentimentality.

I just want common honesty.

But that's all I ever wanted.

I don't think it's to be had.

Harriet, I do understand.

I know that you don't want ever again

to be dependent on another person for your happiness.

That's the truest thing you've ever said.

All right. I can accept that.

But you've got to play the game.

Don't force an emotional situation

and then blame me for it.

I don't want any situation. I just want to be left in peace!

But you're not a peaceful person.

You'll always make trouble. why not fight it out

on equal terms and enjoy it?

I'm a bonny fighter.

Well, all right.

But it all sounds so dreary and exhausting.

Harriet, don't say that.

Harriet, darling, beast, angel, vixen,

don't say that.

Call me anything you like, but not dreary.

Not like one of those things you find in clubs.

Here, take this one. it's bigger and quite clean.

Don't tell me I've been boring you all this time.

You once said if anybody married me,

it would be for the pleasure of hearing me talk piffle.

That sort of thing palls after a while.

I'm babbling. I know I'm babbling.

What on earth am I to do about it?

It's not fair.

It's not fair. you always make me laugh.

I can't fight. I'm too tired.

You don't seem to know what "tired" means.

Stop. Let go. I won't be bullied.

Please go away, Peter. Leave me alone.

Do you really want that?

Yes. Yes, I do.

(Sobbing)

Here you are, then. Come on, now.

Here you are. Yeah. Come on.

Good morning. Is Mr. Weldon about?

You're from the bank, I suppose.

No, I'm not, as a matter of fact.

Mrs. Weldon, is it?

Mrs. Sterne. Mr. Weldon isn't married.

I'm his housekeeper. Sorry.

No, I just wanted to chat with Mr. Weldon

about his insurance.

Well, he isn't here, I'm afraid.

Was he expecting you?

No, no. I had other business in the area,

so I took a chance.

You don't know when he'll be back, then?

I really couldn't say.

His mother had a bit of trouble.

You might have read about it.

A gentleman friend of hers cut his throat on the beach.

Oh, yes. I read about that in the paper.

So Mr. Weldon had to go to Wilvercombe to be with her.

Well, that would explain it.

Farmers don't often leave the place

in my experience.

Mr. Weldon gets away two or three days

most every month.

Really? business or pleasure?

I couldn't say.

He's quite a sporting gentleman.

He often goes to Newmarket,

and he's very keen on them point-to-points.

Good rider, is he?

My husband... he's cowman here...

he says there ain't nothing Mr. Weldon don't know

about animals,

but he don't know much about farming.

I shouldn't have said that.

Not at all. We can't all be good at everything.

He leads quite a social life, then?

Oh, no. They do say he's quite a one with the ladies,

but I've never seen any sign of it here.

No, Mr. Weldon lives very quiet.

His mother used to visit,

but she hasn't been here in the last year or two.

And there was that bearded gentleman

came to stay last June.

Bearded, eh?

I wonder if that might be a colleague of mine.

Tall, slim chap. Foreign.

Oh, dear me, no.

Quite respectable, Mr. Field was.

Definitely not foreign.

Wore a dark suit.

More what you'd call a City gent.

Ah, well.

Mustn't waste any more of your time.

Would you tell Mr. Weldon I called?

Certainly.

Oh, uh,

Mrs. Sterne.

Just for my own record,

I could try to contact Mr. Weldon on... let's see...

the 16th.

That would have been the day that Mrs. Weldon's friend

was found on the beach.

Oh, no. He was away from home all that week.

I remember.

He got back here on a Thursday,

then he had the letter from his mother

and he had to set off again.

I see.

Tragic business, that.

Come along, Miss Vane.

I know ladies like sweet things.

Oh, no, I really shouldn't.

Woman: David! Susan! We're going now!

Thank goodness for that.

You are naughty.

It was one lump of sugar, wasn't it, Miss Vane?

Oh, yes, thank you.

Come on.

Do it!

I have to do it slowly.

What a nice place this is.

Henry, it really was very clever of you to find it.

So simple and charming.

It's not the only thing that's charming.

Oh, Mr. Weldon.

More tea, Henry, dear?

Thanks.

It's a bit quiet for my taste,

though I wouldn't mind buying it

and seeing if I could make a go of it.

Get a gaming license, turn that room into a casino.

Build a dance hall where the stables are.

I think that would quite spoil the atmosphere.

Don't you, Miss Vane?

I don't really know. I expect Mr. Weldon knows best.

Gentlemen usually do, don't they?

You could set up a riding stables.

I suppose you'd have to know a lot about horses for that.

Henry knows all about horses.

He wins races and everything.

Goodness. Do you really?

Only the odd point-to-point, you know.

Do you own a horse, Mr. Weldon?

No, I cant afford it, worse luck.

Henry, we're not going to talk about money.

Miss Vane, do have a jap-cake.

They're just like the ones they make

in the warming pan in Wilvercombe.

I couldn't eat another bite.

They don't actually make them in a warming pan.

Oh, Mr. Weldon.

Oh, Henry, how absurd you are.

You know perfectly well the warming pan is a tea shop.

He's such a tease, Miss Vane.

Do you know, I believe that's the first time I've laughed

since poor Paul's death.

I can never forget him, even for a moment, but...

the pain will get less. I know it will.

Especially if dear Lord Peter can discover who murdered him.

Yes, mother.

Would you like a game of ping-pong, Miss Vane?

Mother will settle up, won't you?

Oh, no. we can't leave Mrs.--

Oh, nonsense. You young people go and enjoy yourselves.

Waitress.

I think it's perfectly splendid of you

to stay with your mother when she's in such trouble.

It can't be easy to leave a farm.

No, it's a beastly nuisance, as a matter of fact.

Still, it makes such a difference

to have somebody kind and sympathetic to talk to.

I'm glad you find me sympathetic.

Mr. Weldon, I was talking about your mother.

Only Dukes and Lords for you, eh?

I bet you find me a bit different from Wimsey.

Yes, rather.

It's a dashed awkward hat of yours.

Don't you like it? Yes, topping. Suits you down to the ground.

It does keep a fellow at a distance.

So I should hope.

We are supposed to be playing ping-pong.

Fine.

Shall we have a little practice first?

Here goes.

Sorry.

I say, talking of Wimsey,

I want you to do something for me.

Yes, anything I can.

Well, do see if you can persuade him to drop it.

Drop it?

Yes. All the time my mother thinks

there's anything in this idea of Alexis being murdered,

she'll hang on in Wilvercombe like grim death.

Besides, she's making a complete ass of herself.

I want her to put the whole thing behind her.

Yes, I do understand. I'll do what I can.

Though I doubt whether I'll be able to persuade Lord Peter.

You know what men are. I'll bet you know, all right.

I'm not very good. I have to take my hat off.

Good idea.

You know, the truth is...

I don't think you're holding your back quite right.

Let me show you.

You know, you're a dashed attractive woman.

No, Mr. Weldon! (Screams)

Dash it, you might let a fellow!

You see, that's what I remembered

about the camper, Martin.

That he had a red and blue snake

tattooed on his arm.

Henry Weldon and Haviland Martin

are one and the same.

I've been kissed by a murderer.

Did he know you'd spotted it?

I don't think so. he was trying to kiss me,

so I screamed and boxed his ears very hard.

I'm delighted to hear that.

And then we went back to Mrs. Weldon.

We said that the children had lost the ping-pong ball.

Then Henry drove us back to Wilvercombe very badly.

And then I dropped the message at your hotel.

I'm very glad you did.

I'm sorry I provoked that stupid quarrel.

It was all my fault.

You're in an awkward situation.

I'm in an awkward situation.

I'd like to make a proposal to you.

No, not that one.

I'll try not to say silly things,

even if I think them. and you...

I'll try not to be stupid and ungracious

just because you want to save me from the gallows.

And together, in a free and equal partnership,

we will endeavor to solve this singularly fascinating murder.

That a bargain?

Should I spit on my hand?

If you've been kissing Henry Weldon,

I'd rather you didn't.

But look here, surely the murder's solved.

We're agreed Henry Weldon had the motive.

He didn't want Alexis to get hold of his mother's money.

Now we discover he's disguised himself

as Haviland Martin.

Planted himself on a campsite

not far from the scene of the crime.

The case is solved.

Shall I tell the police, or you?

I think you should, but not quite yet.

I'd like to give Henry a bit of a surprise.

Are you feeling brave?

Not very.

Good evening, Weldon.

Uh-huh.

Would you mind joining us?

You gave Miss Vane quite a shock.

What business is it of yours?

You ought to have told us you'd met Miss Vane before.

What are you talking about?

Last Wednesday, at Hink's lane.

If you wish to remain incognito, Mr. Weldon,

I suggest you get rid of that tattoo.

Well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag.

You're not denying that you were in Wilvercombe

the week of Alexis' death?

Not much point, is there?

So you came down here in elaborate disguise

to prevent your mother's marriage to Paul Alexis?

Not exactly in disguise.

To be perfectly frank, I've a lady friend in Cambridge.

Miss Vane won't mind. you're a woman of the world.

Oh, certainly.

Nice little woman, devoted and all that.

Husband won't divorce her. suits me all right,

but if my mother ever found out...

So, whenever I want to nip over for a spot of, uh,

domestic bliss,

we're Mr. And Mrs. Haviland Martin,

all perfectly respectable and right as rain.

Besides, it saves gossip and so on.

How very convenient. Yes, isn't it?

And it means that I could come and snoop around here

and see what I could find out about this gigolo's plans

without my mother knowing.

Buy him off?

Persuade him it would be a good idea.

And did you see him in pursuance of this scheme?

No. He cut his throat first.

Bit of luck, that.

So, first thing Thursday morning,

I packed up and left.

First thing Thursday morning?

How did you know Alexis was dead?

Oh, no, you don't catch me as easy as that.

I went into The Feathers on Wednesday night,

and they were all full of the dead man on the shore.

Then the local bobby came in

and said they'd identified him as Alexis.

So I thought I'd better nip off home

in case my mother wrote to me, which she did.

Miss Vane, you won't tell her all this, will you?

That depends.

The police will have to know.

I have nothing to hide from them.

Johnny, where's that Scotch?

So, perhaps you wouldn't mind

giving an account of your movements

on Wednesday last, October the 16th.

Oh, no, rather not.

All the details, as they say in the tec stories, eh?

Well, let's see.

I had breakfast about 9:00.

Eggs and bacon, if you want to be particular.

And then I thought I'd better be getting into Wilvercombe.

I couldn't get that nasty little car to start again,

so I thought I'd better get a lift.

Did you have any luck, sir? Almost at once.

Very decent sort of woman in a big red open Bentley.

Do you know her name, sir? I never thought to ask.

I do remember the number of the car.

Oh, really, sir?

It was rather a funny one, as a matter of fact.

OI-O1-01.

I remember saying to this woman

it was rather unlucky to have a number like that.

If you were wanting to do a bit of speeding,

it might stick in a Bobby's mind...

Oy-oy-oy. (Laughing)

We both laughed about that.

Oy-oy-oy.

Very amusing, sir.

So you got to Wilvercombe about what time?

I flagged the lift just after 10:00.

The good lady dropped me in the market square

and asked if I'd like to be taken back to Darley.

That was very civil of her, sir.

Well, we hit it off pretty well, you know.

Dashed fine-looking woman.

Anyway, she said she had to leave just before 1:00

Because she had a tennis party to go to in Heathbury,

so we arranged to meet in the square at ten to 1:00.

So you got to Wilvercombe between 10:00 and 10:30?

And then?

I wandered down to the Winter Gardens.

I knew my mother was in the habit of going

to the concert, and I wanted to make sure

I'd be in the clear up at the hotel with the gigolo.

Sure enough, there she was, so I dodged in the back row.

Dodged? But you were in disguise, sir.

Ah, well, dark glasses and a wig and a mustache

might be all right for other people,

but I couldn't chance it with the old mother love.

So you didn't stay for the concert?

Oh, yes. I stayed for the first half.

I bought a program. I've got it somewhere.

Won't do you any good.

It's all that silly classical nonsense.

Just as the first half is supposed to be finished,

dashed if they didn't play something extra.

Bach's Air for a G string or something.

Anyway, at half time I made sure

my mother was going to stay on,

and then I disappeared off up to the Resplendent

to look for the gigolo.

And did you see him, sir?

No, he never showed.

I waited for some time, but he never made an appearance,

so I decided to call it a day.

And met the lady with the big red Bentley.

Right. I got there early, so I bought some collars

at a shop in the market square

near the war memorial.

Half a mo'. I've got the receipt somewhere.

You know how one puts these things away.

Ah, here it is. Yes.

"Gents outfitter, Wilvercombe."

It's even got the date on it.

So, the lady drove you back to Darley.

You wouldn't know what time you arrived there?

As a matter of fact, I do.

I remember the Church clock striking 1:00

And saying that I hoped she wouldn't Miss her tennis party.

Quick thinking, sir.

So then I had lunch at The Feathers.

I thought I'd better get back to the campsite

and have another go at the car,

but I never got a spark out of it,

so I got hold of the garage man

and he traced the trouble to a fault in the H.T. Lead.

And what time would that be?

Blessed if I know. 3:00, half past.

The garage man can tell you.

Yes, I'm sure he probably could, sir.

Thank you.

Watertight, watertight.

Damned suspiciously watertight.

Do you know what worries me? What?

The woman who gave him the lift

and, incidentally, his entire alibi.

Why should she have a car number

that's so remarkably memorable.

Who ever even notices a car registration number?

Oi-O1-01. I don't believe it.

Nor did I, but unfortunately it exists.

Constable Ormonde recognized it.

It belongs to Mrs. Morecambe.

She owns a red Bentley and comes here every year

to visit the Vicarage at Heathbury.

The Vicarage? Afraid so.

Every year?

School friend of the Vicar's wife.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear, indeed.

But I have had a notion

for an identification confrontation.

When Mrs. Morecambe picked him up, if she did,

Henry Weldon was disguised as Haviland Martin,

with his ginger wig, dark glasses,

mustache, and so on.

If I bring them together unexpectedly

and she recognizes him without his disguise...

Even the faintest flicker of a recognition...

Then you'll know they were in cahoots.

But do you think they were?

Not really. But we have to make sure.

Do you think you could

keep Mrs. Weldon out of the way tomorrow?

Oh, yes, certainly.

She's suffered enough as it is.

If Henry Weldon really is the murderer,

I'd rather not be there when she finds out.

(Bicycle bell rings)

You say that you and Lord Peter

have discovered something.

Can you tell me yet what it is?

Yes.

It hasn't yet been publicly announced,

but I don't see why the police would mind.

After all, we were engaged.

Yes.

It appears that poor Alexis

had £300 in his bank account,

and that just a few days before his death,

he drew it all out and bought 300 gold sovereigns.

Rather...

rather an extraordinary thing to do.

Of course.

I see it all!

Really?

Oh, yes.

My dear Paul was always so conscious of the fact

that I had more money than he did.

He was such a child.

He drew out all his money and bought that gold

as a wedding present for me.

That's why I wanted to see you privately.

I've had a word with Inspector Trethowan.

He thinks there's no reason why your mother

should be told about your little masquerade.

You haven't done anything against the law,

and since you've never actually met Alexis...

Jolly decent of you, Wimsey. I do appreciate it.

We men must stick together, eh?

Good lord.

What?

I thought I recognized... yes, it is.

Good morning.

Good morning.

I dare say you've forgotten.

You gave me a lift the other day.

Did I?

Why, yes, I believe...

You were wearing dark glasses, weren't you?

You looked different then. didn't you have a mustache?

I shaved it off.

Oh, well, that explains it.

I hope the Morgan has recovered itself.

Yes. The garage people came and they discovered the fault.

Well, I'd better not delay. The police want to see me.

Something about fixing the time of death

of that poor man who cut his throat.

I had to be in Wilvercombe this morning for some shopping.

I go back to London tomorrow,

so the Inspector suggested that we should meet here.

Better than the police station, eh?

Oh, yes. I was quite alarmed

when this nice young Constable came to the Vicarage.

Afraid they were going to have me up for speeding.

Oy-oy-oy.

Oh, yes. (Laughs)

Oy-oy-oy. Too silly.

Well, good morning.

What an extraordinary thing.

Why didn't the police tell me they'd found her?

I expect they wanted to speak to her first.

Check on my alibi, eh?

Oh, well, no trouble about that.

Oh, no, Inspector, no doubt at all.

That's the gentleman I gave the lift to last Wednesday.

He was wearing dark glasses then

and he had whiskers,

but as soon as I looked at him more closely...

And besides, he made some silly joke

about the number of my car and we both laughed at it...

You know how one does...

and he mentioned it again just now.

No one else could have known about that.

Yes. And you picked him up just outside Darley at...

Must have been about 10:00.

And I dropped him in Wilvercombe

and arranged to pick him up again at a quarter to 1:00,

which I did.

And dropped him again in Darley at...

at 1:00.

I know that because I was going to a tennis party

at Colonel Cranton's,

and I remember I looked at my watch

and decided that I had just enough time

to get back to Heathbury, have luncheon, and change.

Yes. Well...

thank you very much, madam, for your assistance.

Perhaps you wouldn't mind

giving me your address in London.

No, of course not.

It's 70 Park Grove, Kensington.

Well, I suppose I'd better get on with my shopping.

You haven't found that poor man's body yet?

No, madam, not yet.

Trethowan: The body was wedged into a deep crevice

at the far end of the Grinders rocks.

Normally it would have floated free,

but it was heavily weighted down

with a cash belt containing £300 worth of gold.

Was anything else found on the body?

There was a passport, sir, recently visa'd for France.

And in the breast pocket of the deceased,

there was a leather notecase containing three £1 notes,

the return half of a railway ticket

from Wilvercombe to Darley Halt,

and there was a photograph.

Perhaps you would describe the photograph.

Yes, sir. It was of a lady in evening dress,

wearing diamonds and a tiara,

and it was inscribed

"With my love, Feodora."

You don't know the identity of this lady?

Enquiries are proceeding, sir.

Quite.

There was one other document in the notecase...

a single sheet of paper

covered with writing in purple ink.

Purple? Hmm.

It is badly stained with blood and seawater

and appears to be written in code.

Code. I see. thank you.

I take it you've not yet succeeded

in deciphering this code.

No, sir. Quite.

Thank you, sir.

I gather we have a witness to the original discovery

of the body on the shore.

You said that when you examined the corpse,

which was soon after 2 p.m., the blood was liquid.

Yes. I handled the sleeves and the front of the coat

and the gloves,

and they were soaked in blood.

They felt limp and wet. they weren't stiff at all.

Were they sticky?

No. They appeared to have been soaked in fresh blood.

In your opinion, Dr. Fenchurch,

what was the cause of death?

Acute hemorrhage,

coupled with the severance of the respiratory tract.

Now, you've heard Miss Vane's account

of her discovery of the body

and her statement that at ten minutes past 2:00,

the blood was still liquid.

What inference do you draw as regards the time of death?

It would have occurred within a very few minutes

before she found the body.

Certainly not earlier than 2:00 at the outside.

In your opinion, would it have been possible

for the deceased to have cut his own throat?

Oh, yes.

In my opinion,

taking all the circumstances into consideration,

it would appear probable the fatal injury

was self-inflicted

in spite of the absence of prior surface cuts.

It is rather rare for a suicide by this method

to be completely successful at the first attempt,

but it is by no means unknown.

Thank you, Dr. Fenchurch.

Oh.

It is unthinkable that Mr. Alexis

should have taken his own life.

He and I were engaged to be married.

Can you...ahem... can you tell us anything

about the photograph signed, uh, "feodora"?

No. But...

I know that Mr. Alexis had had a very unhappy early life,

chiefly because of the Russian revolution.

This lady may have been his sister, or...

In my opinion, Mr. Alexis was murdered by bolsheviks.

Have you any evidence

to support that opinion, madam?

I think that is for the police to discover.

Quite.

Thank you.

I let him take the razor and put it in his pocket.

I'm sure if I had known what use he meant to make of it...

You said this meeting with the deceased

took place at midnight

with the water lapping against the Esplanade.

Yes, sir.

Would it surprise you to know that at midnight

on that particular night it was low tide,

and the water would have been nowhere near

the wall of the Esplanade?

I could have been mistaken.

There. What did I say?

I mean about the water, the waves.

I'd been there a long time.

But everything else happened just as I said.

I gave the razor to the man

I now know to have been Mr. Alexis.

I'm very sorry to say it, but I did.

Very well. you may stand down.

Members of the Jury, you have heard the evidence.

I won't disguise from you my own opinion

that the deceased took his own life.

No. No!

As to why he should have done this,

it is not your business,

nor will it be my purpose to speculate.

(Sobbing loudly)

Well done, Inspector.

I never saw an inquest better handled.

Such a tasteful combination

of disclosure and suppression.

I'm sure I don't know what you mean, milord.

No, our big problem now

is keeping track of that fellow Bright.

I'm putting my faith in Salcombe Hardy for that.

Ah, Mr. Bright,

can you give me an address where I can reach you?

The reward, old man.

Surely you'll want to claim the reward my paper is offering.

Oh, yes. Of course, in my situation,

the money would be very welcome.

That's what I thought, old chap.

So, where can I reach you?

How could they bring in a wicked verdict like that?

How could they?

I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weldon.

It's very upsetting, I know.

I suppose you'll be leaving Wilvercombe now.

It'll always have such distressing memories.

Indeed, my dear, I certainly shall not.

Nothing in the world could persuade me to leave

until the cloud is lifted from my dear Paul's memory.

He did not commit suicide.

He was murdered,

and I know that you and Lord Peter will prove it.

Come along, mother.

Thank you, Miss Vane.

She can't know that if we are to clear

Alexis' name of suicide,

we have to break her son's alibi.

No, poor woman. do you think we can?

We'll do our damnedest.

What I can't understand is why Henry looked so surprised

when the time of death was given as 2:00.

Mr. Lundy, I see you keep your clock ten minutes fast.

So we do, milord.

All our clocks are kept ten minutes fast,

but we set them by the wireless every day,

so we always know what the right time is.

Excellent, because we were just discussing the time

that Mr. Alexis killed himself.

It's a shame about that poor gentleman,

but it has put Darley on the map at last.

Daisy! So it has, Mrs. Lundy.

You had Mr. Martin in here that day.

Mr. Martin?

Gentleman with the dark glasses camped up in Hink's lane.

Oh, yes, so he was.

He had a nice lunch of boiled leg of mutton.

I say, that does sound good.

I don't suppose you remember what time he arrived.

Oh, no, Miss, I wasn't...

Mrs. Morecambe dropped him off

in that big red car of hers at 1:00.

You know Mrs. Morecambe?

The wife's sister obliges at the Vicarage at Heathbury.

Ah. Oh, really.

And you don't remember what time Mr. Martin left?

He left about half past 1:00.

Well, as near as makes no difference.

I remember because I'd arranged to meet my sister...

So he hate his lunch rather quickly.

He had to get back to Hink's lane

to have his car fixed. so half past 1:00, off he went.

Oh. Thank you, Mrs. Lundy.

We must come and try some of that boiled mutton one day.

Thank you, my lord. thank you, Miss.

And rename it humble pie.

Unless the entire community,

including the childhood friend of the Vicar's wife,

is lying, Henry Weldon, alias Haviland Martin,

has a cast-iron alibi from 10:00 to 1:30.

You've always said you mistrust a cast-iron alibi.

I have, and so I do.

If I could break this one, I would, but I can't.

There's still the half-hour between when he left here

and 2:00, the time of the murder.

Right. But is it enough?

And would it give him time to get to the flat-iron rock,

commit the murder unseen, and get away?

Or hide in the niche while I examine the body.

An alarming, yet encouraging thought.

Now, means of transport... horse or car?

We only have his word for it that the Morgan wouldn't start.

Isn't that putting the car before the horse?

All right, let's say

he dashed to the campsite in Hink's lane.

Well, that's 15 minutes gone to begin with.

And let us suppose he jumped into the Morgan

and drove like mad along the coast road,

scrambled down the cliff,

dashed along the beach to the flat-iron rock...

Leaving no footprints in the sand.

Let's deal with one impossibility at a time.

There is that place where that rivulet runs down the beach.

Right. He tiptoed down the rivulet,

sploshed through the waves,

and leapt onto the flat-iron rock

to keep his assignation with Paul Alexis.

All right, so that's five minutes.

So if he left here at 1:30,

and given the 15 minutes it takes

to get from here to Hink's lane,

he must have driven from the campsite

to the cliff top in ten minutes.

A test-drive, milord?

Wimsey: Ready, Bunter?

Ready, milord.

Go!

Twelve minutes, twenty seconds.

At an average speed of about 30 miles an hour.

Which is all very well if you're in a lagonda.

Quite. That rules the Morgan out.

The coast road is hardly the shortest distance

between two points.

But the direct route across the sands.

Yeah, but the wheels would sink in.

Which brings us back to farmer Goodrich's horse.

Fast becoming my firm favourite.

Who will oblige? Shall we toss for it?

You'll have to leave me out, I'm afraid.

I could only manage the falling-off bit.

Head or tails, Bunter?

Um, heads.

Heads it is.

And without a saddle.

Very good, milord.

All right, Mr. Bunter.

Thank you, Mr. Goodrich.

Come on, gee-up!

Gee-up there!

Can you see him?

Not yet.

Harriet.

Yes?

We know there is a flaw in this theory.

We do?

On the fatal day you arrived at 2:00-ish.

Yes.

And the tide was right out and starting to come in.

Yes.

And you could see the dead man's footprints on the sand.

Yes.

Hoof marks from the water's edge

to the bottom of the rock.

There weren't any, were there?

There he is!

Well done, Bunter. well done.

There rides the man who fills my hot-water bottle

and cooks like Escoffier.

(Neighing)

Bunter: Whoa!

Whoa!

What happened?

I don't know, Miss.

He just pulled up sudden as we approached the rock.

Come on, boy.

Come on.

Come on, boy.

Don't. Please don't.

Ahh!

Please don't make him, Peter.

I won't. I won't.

Come on, boy. Come on.

Well, hoof prints or not,

this horse witnessed the murder.

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