All language subtitles for Inspector Morse S01e2 - The Silent World Of Nicholas Quinn

Thank you.

. .

.

. . . . .

It's a very successful party, don't you
think?

It's a very successful party, don't you
think? Oh, very, Dr. Butler. Yes, very

successful.

I am not.

Thank you.

I said I'd think about it.

Excuse me, Mrs. Hyde.

May I introduce Mr. Christopher
McCormack?

I'm very appalling. I mean, I know he's
your son.

You look as though you could do with a
breath of fresh air, Nicholas.

Philly. Philip, I must speak to you at
once.

Please.

Bartlett is selling the syndicate
secrets.

You're drunk. No, no, I heard them. In
there.

Ruth and Bartlett and the Sheikh.

They're all in it together.

Good. Well done, girls.

Good time.

Fine, fine. I got caught short.

Your present incorrect, Dr. Butler.
Thank you, Donald.

Not bad.

Fifteen seconds outside the record.

Everybody inside, please.

Would you mind if I skipped your usual
homily on safety and security, Tom? I've

got to get down to the press.

I think that the deputy secretary should
be there to help if you don't.

There's nothing important, Lewis. I
might as well stay home.

Catch up on the paperwork.

Oh, yes, yes. Lots of it.

Yes, well, all right. You know where I
am.

Cheers. Thanks.

Bloody Beatles.

Hello. What's this?

Dean of Lonsdale Travelling Second
Class?

Oh, Rupert, you.

My publisher wants to see me. He has to
stump up a first -class return.

There's money in physics, no doubt.

Chemistry, actually.

Really?

There's none in paleontology, alas.

What did you make at the party the other
night?

I was very satisfaction.

Shakespeare was delighted with the
syndicate in every way.

Just on my way over there now, actually.

Give some bump to Bartlett.

Can I give you a lift in my taxi?

No, thank you.

As a syndic, I do think our president
should travel in proper style. I always

walk to college, Rupert.

Looks like right.

I have my umbrella.

For an examination, Timothy, please.

Dr. Bartlett in? No, sir. He's gone to
Boundary.

Won't be back till he's gone five.

Five?

Well, I'll have a word with one of the
others.

I don't think there's anyone else here,
sir.

Except Mr. Quinn.

Have to be him, then.

No. Must be somewhere, sir. A car's
still out the back.

Dear, oh, dear. A secretary wouldn't
like that.

Not supposed to leave his office with a
filing cabinet open, not never.

Dear me.

All sorts come in here.

If you'd be surprised, we can't be too
careful.

Indeed not.

Well, I can't wait.

I only came to leave some papers for Dr.
Bartlett.

It's not important. I'll leave them on
his desk.

I was just going to make a cup of tea
for you, late one.

No, thank you. I must be off.

Thanks all the same.

Shall we call you a cab, sir?

No, I'll be all right.

Cheerio. Bye, sir.

Oh, boss.

What?

What the bloody hell?

Oh.

Oh, well, where are you?

Right, I'll meet you there.

Excuse me, sir. The chief inspector.

Who is it, Lewis?

A chap called Quinn, sir.

He's been dead a good while by the look
of him.

Works for the Foreign Examination
Syndicate.

Worked. Sir?

Worked, Lewis. He's dead, isn't he?

Nice place.

They do themselves all right, these
academics, don't they?

Indeed.

Is Max here?

Looking at him now, sir.

Don't fret yourself, Morse.

He went quick enough.

Take a whiff of that.

Cyanide? Well done, Morse. You're coming
on.

How long's he been dead, Max?

You know, four or five days.

Did it Friday night, Saturday morning.
That's a guess.

You'll know more accurately when we've
been through the stomach.

Anything? Nah, just his prints all over
the place.

What about on that bottle?

They look the same as all the others.

Is it all right if I move the body now,
sir?

Better go through the pockets.

You'd do that, Max, would you? Getting
squeamish, Morse.

Oh, by the way.

He wore a hearing aid.

History.

What is his story, I wonder?

A

note

from his cleaning lady.

Might help us establish the time of
death.

Nothing much here.

All right, take him away.

Is that the doorway?

Is there a draft under that door?

A bit of a one, yeah.

That's funny.

If I sat in this room, I wouldn't sit in
a draft, would you?

What's this?

It's shopping.

Is there a bill?

We might be able to establish some sort
of time from that, Lewis.

Oh, and we'd better have a list of all
the food in the house.

Bridge, larder, cupboards.

Everything.

Who's this bloke who found him?

Er, Mr Martinson.

One of his chums from the foreign,
what's it?

Chums, Lewis? You know Morse's law.

There's always a 50 -50 chance that the
man who found the body did the deed.

Well, I was going to arrest him on the
spot, sir, but I thought I'd let you

the pleasure.

You'd better check these pockets, too.

Mr. Martin, Chief Inspector Morse. How
do you do? Must have been a shock for

you. It certainly was.

May I ask what brought you out here to
see him this morning, sir? Dr. Bartlett

sent me the secretary of the syndicate,
my... our boss.

Quinn didn't turn up for work yesterday,
you see, and Whitney didn't turn up

this morning either. Why was no one
bothered yesterday?

Oh, well, Dr.

Bartlett doesn't insist on office hours,
as long as we get our work done on

time, you know. And what do you expect
to find, sir?

I didn't expect to find anything.

I mean, I don't know.

I suppose I thought he must be ill or
something.

When I looked through the gap in the
curtains and saw him lying there.

Yes.

Well, thank you very much. I expect you
want to report back to the syndicate.

You mean I can go now?

Oh, yes, yes.

Thank you for your help.

Is that your car there? Yes.

You don't happen to know if Mr Quinn had
a girlfriend, do you? No idea.

I didn't know him that well.

He'd only been with her three months.

No one he fancied in the office?

Not that I know of.

But he was a bachelor, I take it? Oh,
yes.

Were you a married man, sir?

Yes.

Then I expect you've forgotten what it's
like to be single.

What do you mean?

Nothing, nothing.

Oh, it's C.

You're looking for a reason. A reason,
sir?

Why he should want to do himself in.

Oh, it wasn't suicide, sir. No, no, no,
no. It was murder.

Definitely murder.

What are these examinations you run,
sir?

O -levels and A -levels. The usual
thing.

But for students in foreign countries,
you see.

Well, don't these foreign countries have
their own examination boards? The

large, developed ones, yes. But there
are many places.

And you'd be surprised how many,
Inspector.

We're still grateful for the expertise
and the status that Oxford can offer.

So you're a service industry, are you,
sir?

We're of very great service, if that's
what you mean, Inspector.

Examinations are a matter of life and...
No, you see, in some parts of the

world, passing our exams is the only way
forward. They can make the difference

between abject poverty and extreme
wealth.

So, you see, we take our
responsibilities here with the utmost

Indeed so, sir. Let me show you what I
mean.

Question papers alone go through at
least five stages.

For instance, next December's biology
papers.

First draft, second draft, first proofs,
first revises, second revises.

Everything is checked and double
-checked for absolute fairness.

Our syndics keep a very close eye on us.
Syndics?

Our board of governors, you might say.
All distinguished members of the

university.

So, you see, we have to have absolute
security at every stage.

If even one draft question were to go
astray, the integrity of the whole

syndicate would be completely
undermined. I had no idea.

You'll find, I'm sure, during the course
of your investigations, that I've got

something of a reputation as a stickler
for security in all its aspects.

Fire and death.

But I'm very sure it was at the fire
drill last Friday that I last saw poor

Nicholas Quinn.

Yes, he was certainly there. He ticked
his name upon the list.

How well did you know him, sir?

Not as well as I should have liked,
really.

Of course, he hadn't been here long.

But his deafness did make things rather
difficult.

How deaf was he? The prognosis was he
would have been completely so in five

years.

Rather a curious appointment, then,
wasn't it?

Well, you know, apart from the
telephone, you could hardly tell.

He coped amazingly.

At work, that is. I know very little
about his social life.

And you last saw him?

Oh, it must have been at the fire drill.
I don't think I saw him after that. No,

I had a meeting in Banbury of secondary
school headmasters.

And what time did you leave the office?

I left as soon as the fire drill was
over.

I had to get down to the press.

And what time was that, would you say,
sir?

Well, the drill was at 12.

By the time Bartlett had given us his
usual address, it was 15, 20 minutes

And you didn't see Mr Quinn again?

Alas, not.

Oh, hello, darling. You are home. Good.
Listen.

Really? Oh, Lord.

Listen, Sally, I'm going to be a bit
late, I'm afraid.

Well, I'm still at the syndicate.

Oh, not very long, I hope.

No.

All right, darling, I just didn't want
you to worry, that's all.

Bye.

Not that she would worry, I'm sure,
but... How old is your daughter, Mrs

Sixteen. Really?

I married young, Inspector.

Much too young, if that's anything to do
with your inquiries.

Background information can always be
useful.

What age did you marry, then?

I didn't.

Very wise.

I don't always think so.

Take my word for it.

Mr Quinn was wise then.

He never married?

No.

Did he ever raise the issue with you?

Good heavens, no.

We didn't know each other very well. He
hadn't been here long.

Did he never ask you out then?

No. Well...

We did go to the pub together once or
twice.

For lunch, you know. Which pub?

Horton Trumpet, up the road.

So, you quite liked him, eh?

Well, he was a colleague, you know.

Not a close friend.

And you last saw him at the fire drill?

I think so.

It's ridiculous.

Only five days ago, but I can't seem to
fix it, when and where.

It can happen like that when you've had
a shock.

Can it?

Can you at least remember what he had to
drink?

Cherry.

Medium, I think.

That's better than the stuff that passes
for ale in there, anyway.

Well, that I wouldn't know.

I don't drink much at the best of times
and never at lunch.

I like to be in complete command of
myself when I'm working, Inspector.

Really?

I like to let go. I always drink at
lunchtime.

It helps my imagination.

I'm sorry.

It's the shock, sir.

The leg shock.

Is it?

You know, I'm not sure I saw Quinn last
Friday at all.

I just can't remember.

Well, we'll leave it for now, then, sir.

If it does come back to you...

Good night.

Good night, Mother. Good night.

We'll get all the perk.

Very interesting woman. Very, um...
Very... Self -possessed.

Did you get anything out of her?

She liked cherry.

You knew that?

No, no, no. We only thought we knew it.

Chief Inspector, the keys you wanted to
Quinn's office and his filing cabinets.

Thank you.

Now, you will remember that the material
in those cabinets is strictly

confidential. Oh, yes, yes.

Don't worry, sir. I got my A -levels 30
years ago.

And you will remember to lock everything
after you... Oh, yes.

We will, won't we, Lewis?

Yes, sir.

Good night, gentlemen.

Good night, sir.

Good night, sir.

Thank God for that. Come on, we've got
work to do.

Anything interesting?

Don't think so.

Predecessors stuck mostly.

A bloke called Blonde.

Blonde. Good name for villain, Blonde.

So that explains it.

What? He went for lip -reading class.

Paddington Tech.

That's what explains this.

What?

Couldn't get this door open properly.

What does AED stand for?

Aljamara Education Department.

How the hell do you know that?

Do a lot of business with Aljamara,
wherever that may be.

The Gulf, Lewis, the Gulf.

Wait a minute, what the hell's going on
here?

What?

This letter, Lewis, this strictly
private and confidential letter about

perfectly ordinary dispatch of entry
forms for exams, stated May the 3rd this

year, isn't it?

Yeah.

Why does it say they have to be in by
Friday the 20th?

Friday was the 21st, Lewis.

Made a mistake about the date, I expect.

No, he didn't.

All entry forms and fee forms should be
ready for the final dispatch to the

syndicate by Friday the 20th or the very
latest, I'm told, by the 21st.

Fat chance.

Academics working on a Saturday in
bloody Arabia.

You read that carefully and you'll see.

I said it was murder. Well, I was bloody
well right.

It's schoolboy simple, Lewis. It's an
acrostic.

Read the words down instead of across.

Do you...

Greetings, letter, all four... End of
the lines, not the beginning.

George, your package ready Friday 21st.
You say?

Room three after lunch. Good God!

Now, that was private and confidential.

Oh, but Quinn wasn't called, George.

Well, Bland was. Bland is.

But he didn't clear out his cabinet
properly before he went off to Aljamara.

Yes, Mr George Bland is a villain, you
see.

The careless Lewis.

Careless.

All the same.

All the same what?

Even if something fishy was going on.

If? If? We don't know that Quinn knew
anything about it.

Then why was he murdered?

Well, we don't know that he was
murdered.

Lionide. It's what people do. Tape.
Let's do a site. If they can get a hold

it. Quick.

It's what we're supposed to think,
Lewis. That's why we don't think it.

You know where the drinks are. Poor as a
cup of sherry.

Do you mind if I have a bit?

If you ever want to reach the dizzy
heights of Inspector Lewis, you'll learn

do as you're told.

Sherry.

Nice plate, eh?

Glad you like it.

Cheers. Cheers.

Yeah, I wish I had time to read books.

You haven't.

You're dead.

What? I put cyanide in the sherry.

Oh, well, then you're dead too.

No, I'm not. I haven't touched mine.

Oh, God, and then my print's on the
bottle.

And all I have to do is pour the sherry
down the sink, wash the glass, put it

back in the cupboard, and... Suicide.

Exactly.

Someone's still got to get in to poison
the bottle.

Not necessarily.

Whoever it was could have given Quinn
the bottle as a present.

You don't give people open bottles,
though, do you?

And you couldn't reseal a bottle of
sherry. Well, I couldn't anyway.

Oh, I can't think of this stuff.

Let's go and have a proper drink, shall
we?

There you go.

That'll be £1 .98.

I

want

to know what Quinn's colleagues were
doing on Friday afternoon.

All right. But I want them to know I
want to know.

But if you do that... They'll all have
their stories ready, precisely.

Let's see what they cook up.

All right, so whoever killed Quinn will
have a pretty good alibi for last

Friday. That should help, I admit. If
Quinn was killed on Friday.

Wasn't he?

I don't know. Do you?

Come on, drink up, Lewis.

We've got thinking to do.

there, sir.

That's Dr.

Bartlett's space. Well, I'm sure he
won't mind.

Oh, he will. He gets very upset. But
where the hell can I park?

Well, you can have Mr. Quinn's space, I
suppose.

He won't be wanting it, will he?

When did you last see Mr. Quinn?

Ten to five last Friday, sir.

What? I watched him pack his car out of
his space there and drive off home.

Are you sure? Couldn't it have been
someone else? No, no, I know all the

Anyway, Mr. Quinn's was the only one
there that afternoon.

Really? Yes, sir.

I said to Mr Root. Who?

Mr Root, one of the syndics.

He came over looking for Dr Bartlett. He
got some papers for him, but of course

Dr Bartlett was over to Banbury.

So we looked in all the other offices,
but there wasn't no one in.

But you said Quinn was here. Oh, he was,
sir.

I don't know where mine, but he must
have been somewhere because his coat was

there. What sort of coat?

That old anorak of his.

Always wore it when it was, like, wet,
you know, and it was wet Friday.

But why I know he was here was...

He left one of the filing cabinets open.

Now, they're not supposed to do that,
staff. Not for a minute.

Dr Bartlett's very particular about them
cabinets.

Why would he have done it, then?

Just stepped down the aisle, I suppose,
sir.

Call of nature.

Very interesting, Lewis.

The only member of staff here last
Friday afternoon was Quinn himself.

He was?

Oh, yes.

He backed his car out of his space
there.

I was over there in my... Well, I call
it my cubbyhole, see, but...

Dr. Bartlett, he... Quinn was here.

Till ten to five.

It's a good start, anyway. Yeah.

Come on.

Not good for the brain, Phil.

Ruth swipes an added carbon dioxide? No.

What can I get you to drink? It is after
working hours.

Cinzano and soda, please.

You sure?

Positive. Lots of soda.

Cinzano and soda, please. Ice, ma 'am?

Please, and lots of soda.

I understand you want to know where
people were last Friday afternoon.

Yes, yes, I do.

I expect you to find out sooner or later
anyway, but I was with someone.

I know.

Your place, I presume.

There's no such thing as a secret, Mrs.
Hite. Not that I've ever come across and

didn't need too much beer to tell me
that if he's a married man and your

daughter's at school... Congratulations.

I suppose Donald told you.

He's ever so proud of having an affair.

How long has it been going on, you and
Donald?

A year, 14 months.

Does it really matter?

I don't know.

Was Quinn jealous?

Why do you keep going on about him?

He had nothing to do with it.

So, you went off at lunchtime, right?

Together? Of course not.

And he went to your place?

Yes.

And he left at, I don't know, four -ish.

Sally's usually back by quarter past,
so... Why do you have to know all this?

I don't know yet. Perhaps I don't.

But... That's it.

Yes, that's absolutely it.

Who's not telling the truth?

I don't know why, and I don't know what
about, but she's not telling the truth.

Check her out with her boyfriend?

Well, perhaps it's not the whole truth.

I do hope this is not going to be one of
our sordid cases, Lewis.

You must understand that as president of
the Board of Syndicates, I shall do

everything in my power to do that
Syndicate is not damaged.

Of course, I'm extremely proud of this
unfortunate young man who should choose

to kill himself.

I don't think he did, sir.

I remain unpersuaded.

In any case, nothing you said convinces
me that his death is in any way

connected with the activities of the
syndicate as such.

How long have you been president, sir?

Six years.

And would you say that the syndicate's
been a happy place all that time?

As one can judge, certainly very
efficient.

Made very great progress.

No little jealousies or personal
animosities?

Well, any academic institution, you
know.

Would you like to give an example, sir?

These are internal matters. I don't see
what concern they can be to you.

No trouble about promotions. That's the
sort of thing we get in our job.

I hope it was disappointing when we
passed him over in favour of Bartlett,

that's what you mean.

If you're suggesting... I wasn't
suggesting anything.

What about Mrs Height?

In the late 20th century, Inspector,
we're obliged to give women equal status

the academic world.

She seemed rather attractive to me.

Did Mr Quinn think so?

Quinn? Good God, no, it wasn't.

There's no need for all of this to come
out, is there?

It depends.

What time did you say you left her
house?

About four, I suppose.

And you didn't go near the office?

No, no. I came straight here.

Nice surprise for the wife.

I'll be home early.

I've only... There's only ever been
Monica.

You in love with her?

Oh, God.

I don't know.

This business is just about paid to it
anyway.

You all right, sir?

Shh.

12 minutes. Not bad.

Not the record, but not bad.

What did you say?

They weren't at Mrs. Hyde's. Her
daughter was there all afternoon

our levels.

And she was lying.

Why, Lewis, why?

What do you make of all this stuff we
got from Quinn's pockets?

Not a lot.

Not a lot, man.

I wonder if you won the raffle.

What about this?

Real Lounge, 102, number 93550. Cinema
ticket.

That's funny.

Why two lots of numbers and one ticket?

Fool. That's not 102, that's half of
Studio 2.

IO 2.

I wonder what's on there. Give me the
paper.

No, not the time. It's the local paper.

Now, this is interesting.

You ever seen this?

No. Me neither.

My doctor said I should lose some
weight, stop eating butter, start eating

polyunsaturates, whatever they are.

Not quite the same, though, is it,
Lewis?

I can't tell you exactly, but this is
one of the first tickets that was issued

last Friday afternoon.

Doors open, 1 .15, and there's usually
half a dozen or so waiting.

I'm not surprised.

It's a popular film. We've held it over
a second week.

Held it over what?

Would you like free seats, Inspector?

That's very kind of you, but my
sergeant's a little too young to say

being a married man.

Most of our customers are married.

You know, you've just reminded me of
something.

I don't know if this is of any interest
to you.

But I was only saying the same thing to
a gentleman last week.

A detective story writer.

He wanted to know about our ticket
numbers too.

When was this? Just a minute, I think.

Friday or Saturday, I think.

What did he look like?

I didn't meet him.

It was a phone call.

What sort of voice?

A nice voice.

I do remember that.

Educated, if you know what I mean.

And he didn't give you a name?

No. No, he just launched straight into
the subject.

You know, I'm almost certain it was
Friday.

There is a lot of story writers living
in Oxford, sir.

This isn't a dory, it's a bloody murder,
Lewis.

But who the hell wants to know what we
want to know?

We do.

You didn't get a lot out of Ogilvy, did
you?

Tenavulin? One of the finest of all malt
whiskeys, Inspector.

Close to Glenlevitt.

Really?

One of the few true pleasures of the
bachelor life, as I am sure you have

for yourself, is the opportunity for
useless self -indulgence.

Cheers. Cheers.

Very nice.

Do you often bring your work home?

Oh, that's not work. That's my other
secret vice.

I set crosswords.

To you? Which paper?

Different papers, but always the same
name.

Daedalus. He built the great maze of
Greek legend, you know. You're Daedalus?

I've been wrestling with you for years.

Really? Yes, and a right sod you are,
too, sometimes.

I wouldn't spend a whole day on one of
your five downs.

Well, I do try to be just a little bit
cleverer than the solver, you see.

I always try to make five down just a
little tricky.

Who told you I wasn't married?

Mrs. Haight?

No. But what an attractive woman, don't
you think?

If I wasn't as comfortable as I am...
But a woman would get in the way of my

work. That's my excuse.

What's yours?

No woman would put up with me. I play my
records too loud.

You could get her earplugs.

Who did tell you?

I looked you up.

No need to cherche la femme.

I like to do my own legwork.

Did you think I might ask some awkward
questions, then?

No.

My conscience is clear.

I wanted to see who you were, if you
were up to the job.

Now that I know you do my crosswords in
books, how can I help you?

I want to know how to cheat the system,
how to nobble the exams without getting

caught.

Not easy.

We keep exact records of how each school
does year by year.

If the average suddenly changes, well...
Crooked examiners?

No.

Everything's checked by randomly chosen
second examiners.

Well, that might work in England, but
abroad... We have our own foreign

and our own supervisors.

Like Mr George Bland, you mean. Quinn's
predecessor.

An ideal man.

All the right connections, here and in
the Middle East.

Connections for what?

For overseeing examinations.

What did you think I meant?

What if he were crooked?

Oh, well, if the man at the top in any
organisation falls by the wayside... He

could leak the exams in advance.

Only to one or two people at the most.

Or we'd catch him at once.

They would have to be made very much
worth his while.

And who could afford to do that?

Got any suspicions, sir?

Of what?

Someone cheating.

Suspicions of cheating?

No.

Well.

Just what did you do after you left the
university press last Friday, sir?

I went back to the office.

I got there about half past three.

And left?

About five.

You quite sure about that?

Absolutely. As I understand it, the only
person there that afternoon was Mr.

Quinn.

Then you understand wrong.

I was in the syndicate building till
after five o 'clock.

Another ten million.

I find malt whiskey helps me think.

Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Root.

I'm sorry, I was looking for Mr. Roop.
Inspector Morse. I am Roop.

Come in.

Not just the policeman getting younger,
you know.

Sorry I've no beer.

Oh, that's all right, sir.

Awful business, this.

Of course, I hardly knew the chap.

You are sure it wasn't suicide?

Oh, yes.

I thought he might be...

Well, the suicidal type.

Very lonely being deaf.

Must be.

Right.

Well, you want to know my movements.

I took the 8 -5 to Paddington.

Got to my publishers before they did.

New book, sir?

My magnum opus.

Industrial chemistry.

Roused them up a bit.

Then I went to the National Portrait
Gallery for illustrations.

famous chemists and so on.

Then I had some lunch, took the 37 back
here.

I took a taxi to the syndicate. I got
there about 4 .30.

There was no -one about, only Noakes.

So I left some papers I had for Bartlett
on his desk and I came home.

You didn't see anyone else there?

Only Noakes.

I looked in all the rooms.

He did too.

You didn't see Mr Martin or Mr Ogilvie?

No.

Quinn was around somewhere, we decided.

But we didn't actually see him.

He left a filing cabinet open.

Bartlett would have given him hell for
that.

Bit of a sod, you know, Bartlett.

Very conscientious, I believe.

Could call it that.

Don't you like him, sir? Not much.

Bartlett didn't want Quinn, you know.

Thought his deafness would be a
handicap.

I'm all for positive discrimination.

I pushed him through.

Now, of course, I'm quite certain it
wasn't suicide.

Poor chap.

Could we leave this until Inspector
Morse gets here, Sergeant?

Well, it's us, me, to conduct this
interview.

All right.

So, you've talked to my daughter?

Yes, madam.

So, where were you?

I lied to you, Inspector, because it...
Well, I was ashamed, if you really want

to know.

We were in a lay -by on the Banbury
Road.

Really? I didn't know Studio Two was out
that way.

Shall we have the truth now, Mrs. Hite?

I'm sorry. Just so... So... So very...

So very sordid, carrying on in a
pornographic cinema.

But you had some idea.

I tried to ignore it.

Well, yes, but that's where they were.

But what you say about bland, Inspector,
now that truly appalls me.

Meistersinger, which recording is that?

I'm afraid I wouldn't know. It's my son
Richard who's the Wagnerian.

Richard! There has to be someone this
end, obviously.

I can't believe that anyone... Someone's
passing the stuff on to Blan. It can't

be Martin.

He's too wet.

And he's too busy with Monica.

Not her.

It has to be Ogilvy. I can't believe.

Oh, a man not getting any younger.

Passed over in favour of you. Wants to
make a bit of cash before it's too late.

And take a little sweet revenge.

God, he practically confessed to me.

Hello.

Who?

What?

Oh, yes, right, right. I'll fetch him.

Well, Quinn didn't think it was Ogilvy.
It was?

Excuse me. You're wanted on the
telephone, Inspector.

Thank you.

What did you say? He rang me on the
Thursday night. I thought he was drunk.

He had some wild story. What I thought
was a wild story. He accused me of

selling our exams to the Sheikh of
Aljamara.

Richard! I'm terribly sorry, darling,
but...

Richard, when he suffers... It's his
balance.

It's his emotional balance.

I'd better take that call.

It's in the hall.

Thank you.

Moore's here.

Oh, Lewis, yes.

What?

Nurse Thompson, this is your transplant,
Moss.

Seems someone got your man.

That's why you did it.

When

do

you think they'll let me see Monica
Heights? I don't know.

Not before tomorrow morning.

Hell.

She's in deep shock, Moss.

And no bloody wonder.

What was she doing here?

I don't know.

How did she get in?

Looked like it was someone he knew.

Her?

Sir. Look, I'm in shock, too.

Have one yourself.

His heirs will forgive you.

No, thanks.

Of course.

It doesn't mean he didn't kill Quinn.

No? We've been supposing there's only
one villain here at the syndicate,

on exam secrets to Bland and El Jamara,
for sale to whoever.

But maybe they were all in it. All
except Quinn, of course, the new boy.

He found out, accused Bartlett of being
part of it. Did he? Yes, yes.

Thing is, who else did he tell?

Ogilby, perhaps.

Ogilby takes action.

Why is Ogilby dead now, then?

See, according to Morse's law, sir,
there's a 50 % chance Mrs Hyde did him

Shut up, Lewis.

Look at this.

Glaston and Rintel.

Poisoner's Bible.

Medical jurisprudence and toxicology to
you, Lewis, if you want to make

inspector.

Good grief, he's even marked the page.

Cyanide. So he did kill Nicholas Quinn.

Oh, did he?

Did he?

How could he have done it?

He set the best crosswords in England.

I emptied his pockets for you, Moss,
knowing your sensitivity.

Oh, by the way, your friend was
murdered.

He was killed by a blow of considerable
force, probably administered by a right

-handed man.

The central impact being approximately
five centimetres above the occipital

and two to the right of the parietal
pyramid.

That should give you something to go on.
May I, sir?

I said probably.

Good night, Moss.

Good night, Lloyd.

Good night, sir.

It's not myself.

Look at this, though.

That's Quinn's cinema ticket.

Why on earth should he want to draw
that?

If it is his ticket, what's the number?

93550.

I don't understand.

No human action happens by pure chance,
unconnected with other happening.

And none is incapable of explanation.

Dr. Hans Gross, Professor of
Criminology, University of Prague.

All right, so you know my favourite
quotations. Now, how about some

And you're absolutely two murders and a
very nasty case of bribery and

corruption.

Isn't there anything we could... That's
the end of the syndicate.

You had a party, I understand, for the
Sheikh of Aljamara.

What?

Oh, yes.

Al Jumara was our pride and joy.

Was there anything at that party,
anything at all, which now strikes you

relevant?

No, I don't think so.

Except, now I come to think of it, I did
see Quinn and Ogilvy leaving together.

You realise, if you'd told me this
before, Ogilvy might still be alive.

You didn't ask me.

I didn't know.

You should have told me of your
suspicions. I tried to.

You didn't want to hear.

No alibi, whatever.

I didn't even dine in hall. I worked on
proofs all evening and had an Indian

meal at about 11 o 'clock. Sorry.

No trouble, sir.

Not to me.

Not too long now. She's still very
shaky. Right.

Hello.

Hello.

Are you feeling any better? A bit.

I keep seeing... I know.

Awful, terrible.

I know.

Would you like me to give you a hand?
It's quite difficult today.

Yes, 13 across held me up for quite some
time.

Three minutes.

Are you good at crosswords?

Not bad.

I like all sorts of puzzles, brain
teasers, anything where you have to use

logic.

My weakness is guesswork.

I leap to conclusions sometimes.

Usually wrong.

You want to know what I was doing at
Philip Oglebay's?

If you don't mind.

I was coming to cook his dinner.

Ah. You thought he was the complete
bachelor.

Well, he was.

But the old -fashioned sort.

He couldn't boil an egg.

I expect he could, but... You had a key.

Yes.

How long had this been going on?

Oh, since his old cleaning lady left.

She used to leave food for him to warm
up, but the new one... I'm sorry,

but... Was that all there was to it?

No, of course not.

He was my greatest friend in Oxford.

The only person I could talk to about...
About?

Donald Martin.

About my life.

About life.

He was... I can't tell

you how much I'm going to miss him.

Any idea who or why?

Just one more question.

When you and Donald Martin went to the
cinema last Friday, did you see Oglebay?

No.

No one came in while you were there?

Not that I recognised.

All right.

I've done most of the difficult ones for
you.

Thanks.

And thanks for coming.

I've... I've been so frightened, I keep
thinking.

Suppose the man, whoever did it...

Suppose he was still in the house.

I... What would have happened to self?

Oh.

Mr. Martin, just the man I want to see.

Oh, I was just going to say... She's not
seeing any more visitors for a while.

What? Who said? I did. Can I give you a
lift somewhere?

Look, I was told... You were told wrong.
My car's over here.

So you really do love her?

Yes.

And does she love you?

How would I know?

Not knowing is half the attraction,
Inspector, that you'd realize if you've

been in love.

Yes, it's all that, well, keeps it on
the boil.

People fall in love with what they can't
have.

Don't they teach you that much in the
CID?

They teach us enough, Mr. Martin.

Does your wife know about the affair?

No, at least I don't think so.

I'm fairly sure not.

Sure, or only fairly sure?

No man is absolutely sure of his wife,
Inspector.

As you'd know, if you were married.

Why did you lie about last Friday?

Monica thought it sounded less sordid.

So you were at that film? Oh, yes.

See anyone you knew there?

No.

Sure, or only fairly sure?

Absolutely certain.

All right, you can see her now.

Oh, thanks.

Thanks a lot.

They were there, all right. But they saw
someone. They're not saying who.

Quinn.

That's the obvious solution, yes.

It wouldn't have been Ogilvy.

He was the one that phoned the manager S
for information, if you ask me.

Where did he get to see and copy Quinn's
ticket, and when?

Back in the office.

That's where he said he was.

And where Quinn's anorak was.

And it was in the anorak that we found
Quinn's ticket.

God, you're right.

Right about what? Yes.

Yes, you've done it again, Lewis.

That's where we found the ticket. That's
where we were meant to find it.

Yes, that's it.

Quinn didn't go to the cinema at all.

Oh, but he couldn't, you fool. He was
dead already.

I've heard that...

Mrs.

Evans? Hello, I'm Chief Inspector Morse.

You know Sergeant... Hello.

Anything

strike you

about the room, Mrs. Evans?

That chair.

Someone's going to move that chair.

He'd never sit there.

Well, no one would, it's right in the
draft.

That chair belongs over there.

No, nothing funny there.

Oh, my Lord.

That milk's off.

Now, what do you want to go and buy that
for?

What's that, Mrs Evans?

Salted butter.

He never had salted butter.

Fussy about that. He was?

And he's got a whole pound of unsalted
here already, look.

Lewis, the shopping, salted butter, was
that in Quinn's shopping?

I think so, yeah.

But then it wasn't Quinn's shopping, was
it?

Did I say something?

You're forgetting Noak's the caretaker.

He saw Quinn leave the syndicate at ten
to five.

No, he didn't. He saw Quinn's car leave
the syndicate.

Well, the driver was wearing Quinn's
anorak. Well, of course. It was raining.

wanted to look like Quinn.

He? Or she.

I haven't ruled out she.

Well, we're going now.

We're going to prove me wrong, I hope.
About what?

About Ogleby killing Quinn.

Philip Ogilvy hadn't long to live.

Less than a year, I'd say.

What was it?

Brain tumour.

Inoperable.

Did he know?

Oh, yes.

I always tell my patients.

And in any case, I could never have kept
it from him.

He had a very inquiring sort of mind.

Thought he knew more about his case than
I did.

Doctor's nightmare.

Was he in pain, sir?

He would have been eventually.

Did he know that?

Oh, he knew everything.

I tell you, if he was working on his own
murder, he'd have the whole case sewn

up by now.

Not that I mean that you... Wouldn't you
say he was the sort of man to take his

own life?

One he'd had enough, I mean.

Possibly.

Yes, very possibly, but nothing messy.

Something simple, quick, and
inconveniencing others as little as

What would you have recommended, Doctor?

He wouldn't have needed my advice.

He knew all about cyanide, I'm sure.

The trouble with my method, Lewis, is
it's inspirational and as a result I

sometimes get things arse about face.

That's it.

However, this case is crystal clear now.

I shall make an arrest tomorrow morning.

You can't do that. You've got to go to
the inquest. I'll make the arrest

immediately after the inquest.

What if he's not there?

Oh, he or she will be there, all right.

He or she is a witness.

Thanks, darling.

What time will you be home, darling?

Usual time, I imagine.

Unless they decide to arrest me.

All present and correct except Monica.

All right.

Where the bloody hell is she?

Mr.

Bartlett asked me to go to Mr. Quinn's
house to see if he was all right.

When I got there, I could see the
curtains were still drawn, but I could

through where they didn't meet very well
that Quinn was lying on the carpet.

So I went and phoned the police.

The smallest dose of cyanide, which is
true fatal, is a half gram of

pharmacopoeia acid or 0 .6 gram of
anhydrous.

In this case, the cyanide was
undoubtedly administered in the form of

hydrocyanic acid mixed with sherry. The
post -mortem appearances were such as to

lead me to believe that death must have
occurred almost immediately.

Chief Inspector Morse, I believe you're
in charge of the investigation into the

death of Mr. Quinn.

Yes, sir.

Are you prepared to indicate to the
court the present state of your

Not yet, sir. I should like to make
formal application that the inquest be

adjourned for a fortnight.

Am I to understand by that that your
inquiries are likely to be completed by

that time?

Yes, sir.

Am I right in saying that no arrest has
yet been made in this case?

Yes, sir.

Will a fortnight be sufficient time then
to complete your investigation?

Oh, I believe so, sir.

An arrest is imminent.

As a matter of fact...

I have a warrant here.

And although it may be unusual to
introduce a touch of melodrama into your

court, sir, I should like, with your
permission, to execute it immediately

the adjournment of this inquest. If, of
course, you allow the adjournment.

Very well.

I declare this inquest adjourned for two
weeks.

All rise.

Christopher Algernon Roop, I have here a
warrant for your arrest in connection

with the murder of Nicholas Quinn. It is
my duty to tell you... Are you quite

mad? I hope you'll be sensible, sir.

You're making the most absurd mistake,
Kinder.

I hope you realise... Yes, yes, let's
keep all that till later, will you?

I

should

have been quicker.

You gave me the clue, sir, that first
day.

I did? You said you were a stickler for
security.

Well, everyone confirmed that, and yet
there was Quinn.

Only been in the place a couple of
months.

Three months.

Would you say he was a conscientious
man, sir?

Oh, yes.

He always left a note to say where he
was going and that sort of thing. He was

extremely scrupulous.

And yet apparently, apparently that
Friday afternoon, he broke all the law

the prophets. He committed the sin
against the Holy Ghost. Peter, please.

left a filing cabinet open.

A cabinet full of exam questions.

Now, either he was idle and careless...
Well, he wasn't that, not at all.

Then it was entirely uncharacteristic of
him to do it, so he didn't do it.

Someone else did it.

Someone else who then came back and drew
notice attention to this

uncharacteristic breach of security.

That Quinn was in the building was
confirmed by the presence of his anorak.

don't understand. Where was Quinn?

In the car park.

What? In the boot of his car all the
time.

What? I'm sorry, gentlemen, I must get
back to the station to hear what Mr Roop

has to say for himself.

It's all a question of logic, you know.
Just the application of logic.

Right, Lewis.

Where have we got him?

Interview room one, sir.

Right, whatever you do, don't interrupt.

Just keep your mouth shut and your face
straight.

Even if you think I'm quite barmy, all
right? Right, sir. Good.

That means you arrested him on
inspiration, isn't it?

I don't know what you're talking about.

No?

Do you know what's been the trouble with
this case, Lewis?

Everyone's been so damned clever.

It began well, though, didn't it?

Everything just as you planned.

You said goodnight to Noakes, walked out
of the syndicate, disappeared down the

road, turned round and came back again.

Noakes surprisingly went off to make a
cup of tea.

You went quietly in, along to Quinn's
office, put on his anorak, crept

out the back.

Got into his own car, using his own
keys, and drove off.

The ever -obliging notes even saw you
out of the window. Thought you were

himself.

He then drove to Quinn's cottage,
stopping to shop on the way. Two steaks

make it look as if he had a guest.

A mysterious, unseen guest who poisoned
him and then vanished.

Very, very ingenious.

Except you didn't check his fridge.

You bought butter.

He had plenty of butter already.

And you bought salted.

He never touched salted butter.

Silly mistake, was it?

Overreached yourself, I'm afraid.

If anyone's overreaching himself, it's
you.

I've never heard such elaborate nonsense
in my life.

There's more to come.

In that case, I think I'd better speak
to my lawyer.

I thought you didn't want to see him.

I didn't know that we'd be leaving the
realms of fact for fantasy.

Well, it seemed fantastic to me at
first.

But then it was meant to, wasn't it?

I've no idea what you're talking about.
You deny the charges, then?

Charges? You haven't bought any charges
yet. You deny the sequence of events

I... Of course I bloody deny it!

I've heard such rubbish in my life.

Then let me explain.

Quinn's murderer had to establish an
alibi. You see, all the indications were

that Quinn was still alive on Friday
evening, but he wasn't, as you know.

keep saying things like that.

I don't know anything of the sort.

Oh, did he?

I'm still not exactly sure when he was
killed. I was hoping you'd tell me.

Look, I was in London all day.

I got back to Oxford at 4 .15.

Can you prove that, sir?

Indeed I can.

I met the dean of Lonsdale College on
the platform.

Does that phone connect with the real
world?

Yes, yes.

Then phone him up and ask him.

Lewis, would you... Number 74353.

And if Quinn was actually murdered
before I got back to Oxford, if indeed

really murdered at all...

That puts me in the clear, doesn't it?

It would seem to, yes.

Ah, good afternoon. Can I speak to the
dean, please?

Just one moment, please. I won't be back
until four.

Well, get over to the college at four o
'clock and see him, will you?

All right, thank you.

No, nothing important.

It's important to me, if you don't mind.

Can I go now?

Well, yes, well, I see no reason to...
I'm sorry you've been troubled, sir.

So, Sergeant Lewis, would you drive this
room back to his room? No, thanks. I'll

walk.

Had enough to be hospitality for one
day.

Tell me what you think you're doing.

Too clever by half, Lewis.

Too clever by two or three and a half.

No, don't do that.

I said... Sorry.

I said, don't wipe out the words yet. I
want to look at them.

Well, you can see the principle.

P, B and M are the most difficult
letters to read. T and D get easily

as well.

Mr Quinn was very good, though.

One of the best lip readers I've ever
had.

Of course, even he made mistakes.

We all do.

Was he very deaf?

Yeah.

Can I rub this off now?

Would you be able to hear the bell?

I'm sorry, would Mr. Quinn have been
able to hear that bell?

What bell?

Yes.

Who?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes, it all makes sense.

Right. Well done, Lewis. I'm on my way.

Afternoon, sir.

Afternoon.

How am I?

Feeling better?

Well, I couldn't stand hospital.

Work helps, you know.

And you like your work, Monica. I may
call you Monica.

If you like.

And yes, I like my work.

And your loyalty to the syndicate is
really something, isn't it?

What do you mean?

To the secretary, anyway.

Ah.

You lied to me.

No.

You asked me if I saw anyone at the
cinema. I didn't. I saw him coming out.

That's a bit Jesuitical, isn't it?

He's a married man.

I just couldn't see what his being there
could possibly have to do with...

Anyway, he was leaving even before the
film began.

Yes.

Why do you reckon that was, Monica?

He saw Donald.

Donald would have been out of there like
a shot if he'd seen him.

Yes?

Yes.

If you're going to call me Monica, what
shall I call you?

Morse.

Everyone just calls me Morse.

Ah, just the man I wanted to see.

I want you to call an extraordinary
general meeting of the board of...

Syndics, do you call them? Syndics, yes.
For tomorrow morning.

Well, that's impossible. They're all
very busy people.

Tell them to cancel their lectures,
their visits to their publishers, their

college meetings.

In fact, the whole Hebdominal Council,
if necessary. I want to see them at ten

'clock for a most important
announcement.

Well, I hope it proves more important
than your announcement at the inquest. I

understand Mr. Root is considering suing
for wrongful arrest.

Then he'll do it from jail. We've just
arrested him again.

Good afternoon, Dr. Bartlett.

These dogs.

I mean, look at them. There's enough
brains here to sort out the whole of the

British economy.

What do they spend their time on?

Obscure research and teaching ignorant
louts of undergraduates.

There's a lot of very important research
going on in Oxford. Cancer and that.

Oh, yes. Of course.

It's pretty rare if I'm setting exams,
don't you think?

He wanted to prove himself outside the
academic world.

He knew he was dying.

Found himself in the middle of
corruption and murder.

He wanted to have a go, that's what it
was.

He wanted to solve it on his own. At the
end of his life, he wanted to prove

he'd lived.

So he died.

Yes. Good morning, Inspector.

Though hardly for the syndicate.

Good morning, sir. We were just talking
about Mr Ogleby.

I'd be wondering if we didn't do him a
great injustice.

We might have had none of this trouble
if we'd appointed him instead of

Bartlett. Oh, well, we'll never know,
will we?

Dr Bartlett.

What happened at 12 o 'clock last Friday
in this building?

We had fire drills.

Precisely.

All right, ladies, thank you. All right,

that's enough.

Quinn couldn't hear that.

And so as the alarm was sounding, he was
being offered a glass of sherry in one

of the offices downstairs.

Sherry laced with cyanide.

He was dead within 20 seconds at the
most.

And while everyone else was out front,
the murderer rapidly took the body out

the back and dumped it in the boot of
Quinn's own car.

He then joined the others, ticking his
and Quinn's name off the list.

He then went to the cinema.

There he purchased the ticket, but he
did not go into the film.

He came back here, leaving that ticket
to be collected later and put in Quinn's

pocket so that we'd all assume that
Quinn was alive, long after he had, in

been murdered.

Excuse me, I must intervene.

You said Roop was the murderer.

He couldn't have been. He was in London.

I saw him getting off the train.

Oh, I know he was on the train, sir.

But you said... I said he'd been
arrested in connection with Quinn's

didn't say he'd personally committed it.

No, no, one person couldn't possibly
have managed it on his or her own.

Yes? Bring her in, then.

Mrs. Haight?

Would you like to sit here?

Mrs. Haight, you spent the early part of
last Friday afternoon at the cinema,

didn't you?

Yes. Which cinema was it?

The Studio 2 in Walton Street.

Were you alone?

No, I went with Donald Martin.

Together or separately?

Separately. Donald went first. We didn't
want anyone to see it. Quite.

And as you approached the cinema, did
you see someone you knew leaving it?

Yes.

And is that person in this room today?

Yes.

And would you be so kind as to say who
it is?

I'm afraid it was Dr. Bartlett.

Dr. Thomas Bartlett, I have here a
warrant for your arrest.

I don't believe it.

I just can't believe it.

Bartlett! Oh, he needed the money.

A perfectly adequate salary.

Rather generous by academic standards.

There's mental illness in the family.

What? The son, Richard, is being treated
in the Littlemore.

Yeah, it's not the first hospital he's
been in, either.

As a matter of fact, the Bartletts have
sent him to almost every clinic in

Europe and not on the NHS.

Yes, Richard Bartletts cost his parents
a lot in emotion and money.

Like thousand -pound notes those exams
are.

And Bartlett was such a stickler for
security, no -one would ever dream of

suspecting him.

Well, Quinn couldn't believe it. His own
boss.

And neither could Ogilvy when Quinn told
him. Which is why Ogilvy was here that

Friday afternoon.

Just as he said.

Where? Nobody saw him.

He was right here.

Searching for evidence that Quinn was
right.

Yes, Bartlett was off in Bambury. The
coast was apparently clear.

Nothing.

Except here.

Quinn's keys taken from his pocket after
the murder.

And half a cinema ticket.

It's very odd, surely.

Left on the desk for someone, perhaps.

So what does he do?

He doesn't want anyone to know he's been
snooping, so he carefully copies the

ticket into a diary.

Just as he's doing this, oh, my God.

Voices. Rope.

And notes.

What the hell do I do?

They're coming here.

I go in here.

That's what I do.

And I hope the god Rook doesn't want to
pee.

He doesn't. But he does, however, take
the keys and the ticket.

I see that the keys and the ticket have
gone, and I'm extremely puzzled.

Ten minutes later, I hear a car start up
outside, Quinn's car, driven with the

keys I've seen on this desk just a short
while ago.

Ah, so Bartlett was the murderer and
Roop drove away with the evidence.

Precisely. I expect the thionoid was
Roop's idea. He is a chemist, isn't he?

I'm sure Bartlett never offered his
staff anything stronger than sherry.

Ogilvy was very close to the truth.

He phoned the cinema, you know,
pretending to be a detective story

asking about ticket numbers.

I always thought he was a very able man.
Of course, it never occurred to me.

Look at this.

Poor old Quinn wasn't here long enough
to get his name on the notepaper.

T .G.

Bartlett, Ph .D., M .A., secretary.

P. Ogleby, M .A., deputy secretary.

We made him as a sort of compensation.

We'd only known.

What are you going to do about George
Bland? Oh, Interpol will deal with him.

Quite roughly, if I know Interpol.

Mrs. M .M. Haight, M .A., D .J. Martin,
B .A. Well, strike the first two off the

list. What are you left with?

Office adultery.

We also have to close him. I'm sure of
that.

It's a dreadful thing for British
education.

Of course, the Americans are everywhere.

They spell honour, H -O -N -M -R.
Christ.

What's the matter?

Take this paper to the door and read the
first and last names out loud. What on

earth? Please.

T .G. Barclay.

P -H -T -M -A. Just the names. Just the
names.

Bartlett. Martin.

Just whisper them. Just move your lips.

Oh, God.

And again.

Dr. Bartlett Donald Martin.

Shit.

The wrong bloody brand.

And I've gone and arrested the wrong
man.

Where is he? What? Who? What do you
mean? Did you clean the blood off for

No, no. What do you mean? Oh, for God's
sake, woman.

Was it you or him?

There must have been plenty of it and
brains.

Come on. Come on. What are you trying to
protect him for?

Monica wasn't the first, was she? Or
likely to be the last?

Don't tell me you love him.

He said there'd been an accident.

He said it was in the broad, just
opposite Blackwell.

The girl, an undergraduate.

Philip Ogilvie.

Who was knocked down by a car. A poker.

He used Ogilvie's own poker. He smashed
his skull in, Mrs. Bison.

Oh, Donald!

Answer. Get that bastard off me!

You should get yourself in better shape,
Morse. You're getting flabby with all

that beer.

Yes.

I must have a word with the
superintendent about fitness in the over

I'm surprised at you, Morse.

Fisticuffs was your age?

I thought you didn't like the sight of
blood.

All in the cause of duty.

You are sure you've got the right name
this time?

But I thought he was so clever at lip
-reading.

No one's perfect.

Then he'd had a good deal to drink,
hadn't he?

He'd done himself well enough.

Then, of course, when Roop deliberately
drew suspicion on you by asking you to

meet him at the Botanical Gardens... He
said it was so we could talk without him

invocating me.

Yes, well, they were very cunning.

Both of them.

But not as cunning as Ogilby.

They couldn't get past that crossword
puzzle mind.

Rupert's never liked me, has he, my
dear?

Envy, I'm afraid.

But I have a little money of my own, you
see.

So we've always been able to see that
Richard got the very best attention.

Quite.

Good morning.

Yes, indeed.

You... You... I've had a bad time, Mrs.
Hite.

Most of it my own fault.

If there's anything I can do. Thank you.

But my friends are very kind.

Shall I pour?

Yes, do it.

How do you like it, Inspector?

I expect you'd rather have something
strong, wouldn't you?

Well, yes.

Doubtless you'd like some explanation of
why I was... Why I went to the... No,

no, no, I understand.

I do assure you I don't make a habit of
visiting the cinema.

That kind or any other.

Of course not.

But I've heard so much about this film.

It's a classic, they tell me.

I believe so, yes.

So having half an hour to spare before
leaving for Banbury, I wasn't planning

seeing the whole thing, of course. Of
course not.

You know, it's absurd, but I feel much
worse about this than I do about the

syndicate. I think I've let myself down.

Monica understood that. That's why she
wanted to protect you.

I was wondering if... If I shouldn't
tell my wife.

Tell her what? That you didn't see the
film?

Adultery in the heart is not really the
same as adultery, you know.

Or who shall scape whipping?

We should have arrested Martin straight
away.

Why?

Morse's law.

You said there's a 50 -50 chance that
whoever finds the body did the deed.

That isn't Morse's law.

Morse's law is there's always time for
one more pint.

And there isn't.

Come on.

You believe that about Bartlett only
means to stop for half an hour. Oh,

Yeah, I see anyone in a little thrill.

Just a peep behind the magic curtain.

Glimpse of how the other half has a bit
of the other.

Not everyone's like you, you know. He
is.

Oh, no, they've changed the bloody film.

Oh, 101 Dalmatians.

Great. I might pop home and fetch the
wife and kids.