Original subtitles

Nathan? What are you doing, Nathan?

Look out! We're going into the bank!

Okay, quick! Grab that pole there!

I can't do anything!

What is it?

Come on.

Hmm. Approximately seven hours.

What happened?

Can't tell you exactly.

A man in his early 60s, about 5 feet 10 inches tall.

There's not a lot to go on.

What's that supposed to mean? Oh, the head's been hacked off, the arms below

elbow, the legs below the knee. I'm only guessing at the height from the

trousers.

Quite neatly done, really.

By a sergeant, you mean?

Well, anyone could do it with a hacksaw.

Oh, shall I show you?

Thank you, my dear. I'll leave that to Sergeant Lewis.

I do wish you wouldn't call me your dear, Ward.

How does one address a lady pathologist first thing in the morning?

Well, a doctor would do.

Well... Doctor, I look forward to your full report.

If I had to haggle at a professional opinion, I'd say the chief inspector was

not a morning person.

Oh, I shouldn't worry about it.

He's got toothache.

My mother always insisted I should have a proper breakfast.

Medical opinion would agree with her.

What about you, Doctor?

I can barely manage a cup of coffee.

Huh?

No third degree. I didn't get to bed till four.

We all have our problems.

Well, it kills you in the end.

Well, what are you lot here for?

Suicide? Rape?

Cattle rustling? Illegal immigrants?

Murder, actually.

A nasty one.

Decapitation, to be precise.

I don't suppose anybody came in last night with a severed head.

You think you're joking. A bloke comes in offering to sell me a fresh chicken.

We keep a few hens and I can never bear to kill them, so I says yes.

How he goes, comes back a few minutes later with a bird all plucked and ready.

It's only when I go out later to shut the hens up against the fox I notice his

one is missing.

Then I find a bag full of feathers and guts on the head.

Peg has only gone out and knocked off one of my own birds to tell me.

Wondrous duty calls.

What kind of people live in the cottages down the towpath?

Locals. Weekenders.

You don't think the locals could afford these prices?

My auntie used to swear by a clove, you know, sir.

She's still got her own teeth.

I'll settle for coffee, Lewis, and plenty of aspirin.

Extra sugar, as usual.

And don't forget the aspirin.

There's old Dr. Russell found in the pocket.

I was worried about tearing it.

Discuss appearing.

For what, I wonder?

Television, sir.

Our studio's in Dockland.

You watch the stuff. What sort of programmes are made in Dockland?

EastEnders? Not that I get time to see it.

Maybe one of them game shows.

Meet me at the...

Can't read it. Something club in Pall Mall.

Does that sound like a game show?

You never know, sir. They use all sorts of ruses.

When someone goes through the trouble of inviting you to an exclusive

gentleman's club where you pay handsomely for the privilege of keeping

public school manners with dreadful public school fools, it must be to

the subject's vanity.

That suit came from a university tailor, didn't it, Lewis?

Mm -hm.

Well, let's assume our victim is a university man.

What would flatter the vanity of a university man in his 60s?

Pretty young woman, sir.

Wrong sort of club.

Appearing on television in something intellectually respectable.

South Bank show, sir.

Get on to all the TV companies. Find out who invited an awkward man about 5 foot

10 inches tall in his early 60s to a London club in the last couple of weeks

discuss a late -night chat show.

How do you know it's late night?

I may not see much television, Lewis, but they don't put that sort of stuff on

during the day, do they?

Chief Inspector Mawson's office.

Yeah, one moment.

It's the Moss of Bournemouth College, Sir Alexander Rees.

Walt.

Thank you.

Alex.

Yes, yes, it's been ages.

No, I didn't know.

Well, I don't have time to keep up with all your activities.

I suppose congratulations are in order.

Lunch?

Yes, well, why not?

Yes, I'm free.

I'll be there.

I'll bring you a fellowship, will you, sir?

Knowing Reece, he probably wants free advice on guarding the college silver.

I'll leave you to sort out those TV companies, all right? Right, but I...

check on that suit.

Sailor May, we should get the owner's name.

I'll get on to them first.

Oh, and then you can chase up your friend, Dr Russell.

That should give us all something to look forward to.

Chief Inspector Morse.

I am here.

Over -educated women.

My dear fellow.

How long has it been?

Quite a while.

Come in. Come in.

Right. Sherry?

Scotch, if you've got it.

To think.

Oh.

All this stuff yours or the college's?

Mine, I'm afraid.

You always were quite a collector, weren't you, Alec?

Do take these.

What was wrong with the girl just now?

Oh, Deborah Burns, yeah.

Such a pretty, highly gifted student.

She's just completed her DPhil. I supervised her myself, actually.

Will she get it?

Oh, she'll get it, all right.

But she was hoping for a research fellowship here. I had to tell her just

that she's been turned down.

She took it very hard, as you saw.

Rather highly strung.

But I didn't get you here to talk about my students. As Virgil pointed out,

there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Hmm.

I'm very concerned about Dr Kerridge, my vice -master.

It seemed to me that someone like you who understands the university could

discreet inquiries.

What about?

Well, he took off for London at the end of term and was supposed to be back four

days ago.

I'm supposed to chair a conference on constitutional law tomorrow, and he's

supposed to be in charge in my absence.

Four days isn't very long. Oh, he's very punctilious.

Untidy in appearance, perhaps, but...

Highly organised.

Well, we've checked his flat in Bayswater and his cottage in Thrup. He's

angler. But he doesn't appear to have been there either.

Two desirable residences?

People pay economists vast sums of money in order to avoid taking their advice.

Perhaps he fell in love.

It can happen to anybody.

That's what concerns me.

Kerridge is not a ladies' man.

Quite the contrary.

So if he has fallen among bad company, well, we can't afford the scandal.

What makes you think he has?

I had a call from a young man.

All he would say was that Dr Kerridge would be delayed. When I asked to speak

Kerridge himself, the man rang off.

I still don't see why.

But you must realise that my college's reputation is at stake.

I appointed Kerridge.

It was a good idea.

Healed the divisions after my election.

He was popular with most of the fellows.

Except Drysdale, of course.

Arthur Drysdale?

Yes, you know him? Are you still?

He has cancer, you know.

Of the brain.

Six months, I reckon. Maybe less.

He's gone to Rome.

It's his favourite city.

One last visit.

What about Hayman Carriage?

Oh, they were famous as enemies.

I mean, are.

Rivals for the Sheldon Lectureship, you see.

Some people consider it the most prestigious post in the entire

Who won?

As a matter of fact, I did.

Which no doubt put you on the road to your present eminence.

Yes, I expect it helped. But whatever the case, if something...

Unfavoury as happened to carriage, it'll reflect badly, not only on the college,

but upon me.

Can you think of one good reason why I should help you, Alex?

Professional pride.

Better get into lunch, or it'll all be gone.

I'm Dr. Kerridge. Mr. Christopher Stonely is expecting me.

Stonely? No.

Thank you.

Night, Luncey.

I had an eminent chemist on my left who talked throughout the whole meal about

the operation he'd just had on his piles.

Very nice.

And the world -famous mathematician on my right demonstrated beyond all

reasonable doubt that the best au pairs come from Portugal.

That's what you go for, isn't it? A conversation.

True, Lewis. That's why I prefer pubs.

What have you got?

Not much.

No luck with the university tailors yet.

Those TV people were no help at all. And we're still waiting for Dr Russell's

report.

I've got a missing person.

A distinguished economist.

It's called Carriage. He's vice -master at Beaumont College. Is he on the list?

Carriage. No Carriage.

Were you thinking he might be the body? That'd be convenient, wouldn't it?

Let us hypothesize. Let's say that Carriage is the recipient of that

goes to London.

Something goes wrong.

A young man calls to say that he'll be delayed.

And then we find the headless body in Thrup, the place where he happens to

a cottage.

Sounds all right to me. Right.

You take the cottage in Thrup.

I'll do the pied -à -terre in fragrant bayswater.

Fortes, fortuna, do that.

Fortune favors the brave.

My school motto, sir.

I am not hurt, Christopher.

Chris, please call me Chris.

Chris, I've had a lovely time.

But I must admit to being just the tiniest bit irritated.

You've kept me in London when I ought to be in Oxford.

I'm still waiting to see the contract for this show of yours. There is no

contract.

Nor a show.

Nor a studio.

Then what on earth? Just a little acting job.

While I'm resting, as they don't say in the trade, I do not understand.

Someone wanted me to play a TV producer.

The second time they've asked me, as a matter of fact.

I was supposed to persuade you about this programme and lure you down to the

Isle of Docks, pretending that's where the studio is.

Who approached you, and why?

They didn't tell me his name.

I can tell you what he looks like, then.

The sort who should play old -fashioned headmasters.

Tall, fussy, upright for his age.

Claimed to be a friend of yours.

Though he's not wearing nearly as well as you are.

Thanks, Chris.

Did he tell you why he wanted you to go through this charade?

No.

No, I...

I didn't care for the first one.

But you're different.

I must be on my way.

No, please stay. No, I'm afraid I must.

I believe the person you described to be abroad.

If he's not, I must prepare myself.

Goodbye.

Thank you for my lunch.

15 -30 service from Oxford due at 17 -30.

Who is it?

It's Chief Inspector Moore, so I'm looking for Dr. Kerry.

Well, of course I know the doctor, Inspector. I've lived here since the

know, when it was a respectable place. I'm sure, madam. Of course, it was very

boring then.

Fascinating things that go on now.

I wouldn't live anywhere else in the world.

How long has Dr.

Kerridge had his flat, Mrs...? Miss Tree.

Tree by name, Miss Tree by nature.

I don't suppose you want to know about my private life?

If you would just tell me about Dr. Kerridge.

What do you want to know, Inspector?

When did you last see him?

Oh, I haven't seen him for weeks.

I've heard him all right. He has the flat above me. Not that I'm complaining.

doesn't go in for wild parties, more's the pity.

Keeps himself to himself, you might say. Rather dull, really.

I mean, all he really likes doing is sitting by the canal in the rain, trying

catch fish.

I prefer dancing.

When you say you've heard him... Oh, just a bit of banging about.

chopping the head off some poor herring, I dare say, to feed his friends.

How anyone can eat fish when you see the state of the water.

Does he often have friends in, Miss Tree? He lets people stay here. They

come to me for the key.

When was the last time that happened?

Last week.

An elderly gentleman.

Very nicely turned out.

And he didn't say who he was?

It wouldn't have meant anything to me anyway, would it, Inspector?

If I could borrow the key to have a look around as a friend.

I must finish getting ready for my tea dance.

Do you tango?

No, I thought not.

I might be able to do something with you.

Perhaps not.

Scotch, please.

Thank you.

Ma 'am.

Dr. Burns, is it?

Who the hell are you?

My name is Morse.

Path's crust in the master's lodging.

I'm waiting for someone.

Your glasses feel empty.

All right.

White wine, thanks.

That seat is taken.

Scotch and white wine.

Did you hear what I said? That seat is taken.

How did you know my name?

Well, Alex told me we're old acquaintances.

So are we.

Cheers. Cheers.

By the way, I'm not a doctor yet.

Well, Alex said there'd be no doubt.

What he said about my fellowship.

Academics don't know what it means, stuck in their little library towers.

They've more or less got jobs for life, haven't they?

Would they share them with someone new?

Someone who also happens to be a woman?

I'd like to see some of them on the dole, I can tell you. Like Alex?

Alex and I... We work very closely together on the new book.

I should have joint credit, really.

Still, it might get me my doctorate.

It should have got me my research fellowship.

Are you connected with Oxford, Mr Moore? In a manner of speaking.

You must have some idea of what it's like.

A vicious, backbiting, petty -minded parochial little town that thinks it's

centre of the universe.

Pretty, though.

For a city.

It's the people that spoil it.

People like Beaumont's vice -master, Dr David Bloody Carriage.

Why Carriage in particular?

He's the one who voted against me.

How do you know?

Alex, the master told me.

That's who I'm waiting for.

You might have a long wait.

I've got a train to catch.

Can I get you another?

No, thanks.

Well, I wish you luck, Miss Burns.

Dr. Kerridge.

Miss Burns!

What on earth are you doing here? You vetoed my fellowship. I want to know

Dear good woman.

Come on.

This may sound melodramatic, Miss Burns, but there is someone after me. Me, Dr.

Kerridge.

I am quite serious, Miss Burns.

So am I.

Give me one good reason why you are so against me.

I was not.

I am not.

I had nothing to do with turning you down. You have my word. Then who was it?

You really want to know?

Very well.

It was the master.

You've got a tissue.

You've got a nasty infection there.

There's nothing I can do until it's cleared up.

I'll give you a prescription for some penicillin and you can come back on

Friday. Well, can't you just take it out now?

You no longer condemn teeth to death without just cause, Mr. Moore.

If you had visited a dentist in the last few years, you would know that.

Make an appointment with the receptionist. And cut out the sugar.

Good day to you.

I could be of help.

Hello.

Hello, Sergeant Lewis.

What's he got you wrong? I thought your wife bought your clothes.

Not around here, she doesn't. A bit rich.

Oh, go on. Let's have a look.

We've seen this once already.

Hmm.

Definitely not your style.

So at least we know now how it was.

Taylor made for Dr. Kerry.

An arm and a leg.

Oh, hey.

The chief inspector found out that Kerry went missing recently.

More than likely ended up in the canalic slough.

Oh, um, how is Mawson's toothache?

Still making him impossible?

He's gone to the dentist.

He'll be all sweetness and light now, I promise.

Well, we'll see.

Actually, you can probably help me.

Oh, try.

Well, believe it or not, I've been made godmother.

Yes, which makes me feel very old.

And, um, I'm not quite sure what you get nowadays.

A girl or a boy? A boy, age three.

One thing I wanted when I was a lad was a tin drum.

Hope me mum wouldn't have it. Said it'd be too noisy.

Yeah, sure she was right.

No, no, I need something smaller.

They're going back to India. Need to work in the same hospital.

What about a mug?

You know, a pewter mug.

There's a nice shop on the high street.

Yeah, that's a good idea.

Oh, but you may not turn out for a drink.

It's hot out there, isn't it?

Sugar? No, better not.

Tent is the shortest.

Is this yours?

Sort of. I pinched it from my local.

Does that appear any good?

No.

Why don't you try it sometime?

I might just do that.

What news of the master?

I spoke to him this morning.

In fact, I was going to call you.

Dr Kerridge has been found in London.

He's perfectly all right.

Yes.

Who found him?

Miss Burns, apparently.

She rang here last night in a most peculiar state.

What did she say?

She appears to have got it into her head that the master has ruined her career.

In fact, he may have put the threats.

What sort of threats?

Well, you know, academics, they're forever accusing each other of

She said she'd expose him, the usual kind of thing.

How would she do that?

Well, there are people in the media who are ready to believe anything, aren't

there?

Especially about Oxford.

But I think Miss Burns was just being hysterical.

Why?

Because she claimed Dr Kerridge supported her against the master.

But completely unlike him, he's totally loyal to the college.

May I?

Miss Burns doesn't exactly get the most generous of acknowledgements, does she?

I have no doubt the master gave her what she deserved.

Of course, she could have been greedy for more.

Does she know what he's put?

She insisted on knowing. That's what caused her intemperate reaction.

And you told the master about that?

Of course.

How did he react?

Calmly, as always.

Dr. Russell had forensics report on that piece of skin he brought back.

It does belong to the body.

But whose body is it, Lewis?

It's Dr. Kerridge's.

The suit was his.

Dr. Kerridge is alive and kicking in London.

We'd better have that canal dragged again.

Arrange it, will you?

I trust your excellent taste is as much appreciated by your employer as it is by

me.

Difficult, is it?

Just difficult to keep up with.

But the effort is so worthwhile.

Tell me about the Sheldon lectures.

One of the greatest honours the college can bestow.

Guaranteed publicity.

Guaranteed publication.

Guaranteed future career.

So the master was very fortunate to get the job.

Not fortunate, deserving.

But of course he wasn't master then, that followed later.

How was the post awarded?

The college council decided between those fellows who'd been put forward.

And how would people like Carriage and Drysdale get defeated?

You know Oxford, it only needs someone to... to put about the wrong sort of

gossip about a candidate, that his work wasn't original, or that there was

something in his private life that would gain the lecture the wrong sort of

attention.

So Carriage and Drysdale might have assumed that each had slandered the

I suppose so.

I feel so sorry for Mr Drysdale, for an academic to contract cancer of the

brain.

But he does seem to be enjoying himself in Rome.

We've all had postcards.

Damn it, Lewis, I'm off duty.

Sorry, sir. Sorry, miss. We've just had a call from the chief superintendent

about Dr Kerridge.

Come back to Oxford, has he? I'm afraid not, sir.

They found him in his bayswater flat, battered to death.

Hmm. Hex or job.

Yep. Thought it might be.

What's a nice girl like you doing a job like this for?

How do you know I'm a nice girl, hmm?

You sound just like Morse.

Oh, take that as a compliment.

No, I mean, you'd have made a smashing GP.

What made you prefer dead bodies?

Um, well, you have the same challenge of diagnosis, but without the

responsibility of prescription.

Hmm.

The dead man was at least five feet ten, but I can't tell you much more till the

head is found.

I'll go and see the boss.

You really like him, don't you?

You bet there is.

Oh, if you say so.

Doesn't make sense that two people killed in the same flat.

By the same person, do you reckon?

Well, if so, why cut up one body and bring it all the way to Thrup?

Why dress it in someone else's suit? You're going to kill the owner of that

soon afterwards.

And I thought it was Kerridge who did the first killing, and then got killed

himself.

Why would Kerridge want to dress up a corpse in his own clothes?

Whoever killed our first victim planned it very carefully.

Carriage, on the other hand, was battered to death in a way that seems

casual by comparison.

There obviously is a connection.

One the yard will never find, that's for sure.

Look at that.

The Christopher N.

1669.

Well done, Lewis.

And the place where the Sheldon lectures are delivered.

In front of the great men of the university in all their robed finery.

To be the centre of attention in such a place.

To have your peers hanging on your every word.

Worth killing for, would you say, Lewis?

I don't know, sir.

I was once meant to speak in a balloon debate in my first year of secondary

school. But it was cut short by a fire drill.

Get back to the office.

Check on all missing persons over five foot ten.

I'm popping into Blackwell's to see if they've got anything by the late doctor.

By their works, surely he knew them.

Look at that.

Simplicity of life, Mort. The older one comes, the more unattainable and

expensive simplicity becomes.

Mary, my dear, how well you've recovered.

Lady Reese doesn't share your toast in art, I take it. Rachel is not fond of

crowds. Being in a wheelchair, she gets bored with other people's groins.

I didn't know.

No.

It was her own fault.

Hunting. What do you expect?

You, um, you never married, did you?

No.

What was the name of that girl we both knew?

Wendy.

Wendy.

Let's talk about carriage.

What if

it were

rent boys, or whatever they're called?

It would be very helpful if you could... Curb speculation.

The Scotland Yard are officially dealing with this case.

Not you.

Oh, well, that's all right. I know the commissioner quite well.

They sometimes call me in to talk about civil liberties.

Yes, I'm sure you're everybody's favorite expert.

As a matter of fact, I dropped into the cabinet office on the way back from

Sussex. They're setting up a commission to look into the feasibility of a Bill

of Rights. Which means they're never going to do anything about it. And I

probably be its chairman.

I'm told it's almost definite.

Well done.

You'll soon be in the House of Lords.

It would make Rachel happy.

You didn't by any chance run into Miss Burns when you were in London?

No, I was very pressed for time.

Come on, Alex.

She was threatening to blacken your name.

I can handle Miss Burns.

And Dr. Kerridge?

Wasn't he prepared to back her up?

Kerridge is far too sensible to be swayed by anything an overwrought young

might have told him.

You didn't run into him by any chance?

No, I told you I was in London for only an hour or so.

Do you want the name of the person I was with?

The yard light.

It was Mitchell.

Robin Mitchell.

Excuse me.

Martha, I thought you were in the Rockies with Eddie.

Yes, we were, Alex Darling. Walter's business commitments, I'm afraid.

Hello, Lewis.

Listen, I think I've had something.

You'd better come in.

Pour yourself a drink.

No, no, thanks.

Well? Yeah, about this Smith and Perth and they're all one or two people the

right height.

Well, let's have a...

There's one, Mr.

J. Williams, who's described as a financial advisor.

To the government, you mean?

Not exactly, no. More like telling old ladies how to invest their savings and

then walking off with the cash.

I mean, some old pensioner might have caught up with him and expected a

revenge.

Unfortunately, he had a tattoo.

If it was on one of the limbs that was chopped off. A writhing serpent, sir.

Right across his back.

I've checked with Dr. Russell.

Not a snake in sight. All right, Lewis.

Now tell me the good news.

Well, there's one.

5 '11", early 60s, last seen about five days ago.

And who has the Oxford connection, sir?

Name? Ballarat.

Nicholas Ballarat.

He's a very senior civil servant, sir. Has the ear of the Prime Minister and

that. So if it is him, that would explain why Scotland Yard have kept

What's his connection with Oxford?

He's an honorary fellow of Beaumont College, sir.

Looks to me, Lewis, as if we ought to pay a visit to the wicked metropolis.

You say so, sir.

Go on.

Get home to your wife and kiddies. They need you even more than I do.

See you in a moment.

Is he in? He's at lunch, in all souls.

Can I help?

Is that a rhetorical question?

Two fakes still giving you hell.

Mm -hmm.

Would a beer help?

Undoubtedly. But I'd only keep you from... The college buttery serves a

perfectly acceptable ale.

And... I do owe you one.

Thank you.

Does the name Nicholas Ballarat mean anything to you?

Of course.

He's one of our honorary fellows.

Do you know anything more about him?

Only that he's an internationally known economist who advises half the world's

government. Including our own.

He's also a whiz at money raising.

He made the new building program possible.

Who nominated him for the honorary fellowship?

The master, I think. Why?

I've been reading Kerridge's book. He attacked Ballarat quite viciously.

I wouldn't have thought that made for harmonious high table gatherings.

I'm told they could do with a bit of livening up.

Mm -hm.

Besides, Ballarat gives as good as he gets.

He made a speech at the union that was quite obviously aimed at Dr Kerridge.

Everybody here was talking about it.

Well, Carriage was an angler. They're very philosophical.

Like policemen.

You know, Alex built his reputation on people like them.

He wrote their constitution when they became independent.

He understood their needs so well that within a year they'd torn up all his

rules and become a one -party state.

disturb you, my dear.

My dear doctor.

You're very squeamish, aren't you, Maud? Very.

I can understand that.

You can?

Max never did.

Ah, well, I'm not Max, am I?

No, no, I would say you weren't.

Don't know anything about toothache, I suppose.

Bloody pills haven't done any good.

Oh, I don't trust doctors, let alone dentists.

Well, what can I do you for?

The Ballarat murder.

Have you had anything from the yard?

Uh, yes.

Yes, much of what they've sent. It's not much use if you don't have his head to

check his dental records.

Hmm. The blood group's the same.

The height matches.

The age is right.

And, um, also the time of death.

You said he was cut up by someone who knew what he or she was doing.

Hmm.

Where the hell do you get the name Grayling from?

Blame my father.

I was his seventh daughter, and, well, he was a keen fisherman, and desperate

for a name, he decided to call me after whatever he pulled out of the river.

Lucky it wasn't the chub, eh?

Sorry.

Maybe you'd like a drink sometime.

Maybe I would.

Once I've got rid of this bloody toothache.

How do people live in a place like this?

No work in Kidlington.

The buildings are considerably finer.

Some were designed by Inigo Jones.

Ah.

You should have seen your cutlery.

Once knew a girl in Burton -on -Trentworth.

Further north than that, I have no desire to go.

Turn right here.

Are you sure? I'm sure.

Thank you, Inspector. First on the right.

I'm a frequent visitor to the corridors of power, Lewis.

Good.

Look, I'm sorry if I'm not being much help, but...

Well, I suppose we in the Cabinet Office get into the habit of telling as little

as possible.

And I assure you, you wouldn't get any more out of Mr Mitchell, even if he had

the time to see you.

We are talking about a murder, Mr Collins.

I know, I know.

But it could happen to anyone, couldn't it?

I mean, you asked me if Ballarat had any enemies.

Well, quite frankly, we all have.

It's one of the penalties of being a public servant.

Though I imagine you two should know all about that.

What do you know about the Royal Commission on the Bill of Rights, Mr.

What do you know, Chief Inspector?

The CID do sometimes get information, sir. Have you found yourselves a

To be quite honest, I don't see what this has to do with your inquiries. I

find out in any Fleet Street pub, Mr. Collins. I'd rather have it from the

horse's mouth.

Well, I suppose it will be made public fairly soon.

In actual fact, we have found a chairman.

I can't tell you who, of course. Sir Alex Rees?

No, certainly not.

Whoever gave you that idea? Who made the final recommendations?

Look, these are matters of national security.

Was it Mr Ballarat?

Look, all I can say is that he is, or rather was, someone by whose advice the

set great store.

Thank you, sir.

Hope we haven't taken up too much of your time. Look here, Chief Inspector.

I wouldn't want any unauthorised information being wrongly attributed.

Of course not, Mr Collins.

You haven't told us anything, have you?

Could hit the road, sir.

Think of the traffic, Lewis.

Besides, the pubs will be open any minute.

What's your opinion of Mr Collins?

I thought he was an arrogant pillock, sir, and you more or less told him so.

Did I?

I thought I was the soul of politeness.

That's what you always think, though, isn't it, sir?

You've got any breath, Lewis?

Miss Burns?

Miss Burns?

Try, Sid.

Shut up, Lewis.

It's opening time.

Alcohol -free lager time for me, I suppose.

You always complain about my driving, Lewis. Think of my pension and slow

will you?

What did you say?

I said I was thinking about Ballarat.

I still can't fathom out why he was dumped at Thrup.

If you'd been promised something and were then disappointed, something that

would crown your career, wouldn't you harbour murderous thoughts against the

person that disappointed you?

I doubt it.

Well, let's assume the murderer doesn't have your forgiving nature. The victim

is someone prominent.

So prominent that the minute the death is discovered, the entire nation's

forces are in action.

Now, what would you do to put off the moment of discovery?

Chop him up into little bits, dump him somewhere miles away.

Precisely.

And if you now have a flat in London where you can perform the act of

or a cottage by a canal where you can jet it in the bed... Dr. Carrington.

No.

That's who you're meant to think of.

It's a person I think of.

You were turned to?

I was thinking, Lewis, that you're Alex Reed, the master of Beaumont.

For heaven's sake, be a man, Inspector.

Is it the way you behave when facing some slight discomfort?

No wonder violent crime is on the increase.

See the teeth out on the hook?

Don't know anything about that. He lost half the mountain, I think.

Yeah,

can you put him in cell number three? Because he hasn't been charged yet.

I'll be down later about that.

Yeah, he's all right there. The rest are fine.

That's good, yeah.

Chief Superintendent wants to see you, sir, like an hour ago.

Thanks, Chief. I'll be in the office.

And you barged in without informing the guard?

Sir? You've threatened a member of the Cabinet Office staff.

A very self -important member.

That's no excuse.

And uncooperative.

You know what these bureaucrats are like. You don't go picking on them.

I thought we parted very amicably.

And you must be getting even more insensitive in your old age. What's

you?

Teeth.

Nevertheless, it does not do this force any good to have one of its chief

inspectors behaving like a roughy jovo up in Whitehall for the cup.

Look, sir, I was at Oxford with half the senior ranks of the civil service.

And that's where you learn to behave so badly, I suppose.

Huh?

Thank God my daughters went red brick.

Civil servants respect a bit of effortless superiority.

It's what they're always trying on the rest of the world.

And what good did he do you?

We believe the torso is that of Nicholas Ballarat, a senior government advisor.

Dr. Russell's forensic skills identified him, I understand.

Always happy to pay credit where it's due, sir.

What about his killer?

That's why my interview with Mr Collins at the Cabinet Office was so useful.

Ballarat was an honorary fellow of Beaumont College, the new master of

so Alexander Rees recommended him personally.

In return, he expected Ballarat to get the Prime Minister to nominate him as

chairman of a new Royal Commission, a certain route to a peerage if you come

with the right conclusions.

Well?

According to Mr Collins, Ballarat did not.

Put forward Rhys's name.

Are you seriously suggesting that a public figure like the Master of

would murder a senior civil servant merely because he didn't get the chair

the commission?

Look, I've known Rhys for a long time. He's always been intensely over

-ambitious.

Kerridge found out that he was claiming as his own the work of one of his female

pupils.

Rhys also happened to be having an affair with her.

I don't see what that's got to do with anything.

Rhys called me informally when Kerridge disappeared because he didn't want any

scandal sullying his own good name.

So he could have killed Kerridge to keep him from speaking out.

Could have?

It's pure speculation around a case being dealt with by the guard.

Yes, sir, but if Rhys could kill his own vice master, he could certainly kill a

man like Ballarat, who he believed had robbed him of his crowning glory.

If... If... Don't give me any more hypotheses, Morse. I want facts.

Moose? No, I'm sorry, sir. The jaw's still rather tender.

Coffee, sir?

Extra sugar.

Didn't last long, did it, sir?

The self -denial.

I know. You need the energy.

Yes, I've already had a bad time with both the dentist and the chief

superintendent. Sorry, sir.

What did he say?

We need more to convince him that Rhys is a killer.

What if we were to eliminate all those possible suspects?

Like Drysdale.

He had a motive for killing Carriage. They were old enemies.

I've checked on him. The hospital's confirmed he's dying of brain cancer.

Besides, he's in Rome.

Still.

What are the twin bases for successful detection, Lewis?

Confession and information, sir. Well done. Now, what we need is information.

And who are the best informed people in any college?

The scouts, Lewis.

They put the drunk to bed, they clean up the vomit, they wake the sober where

the single are impaired.

They are discreet, maternal, devoted, exploited, and they know everything.

Start with carriages to go. Why not all the college gossip? Off you go.

Dr. Carriage?

Who? Dr.

Carriage. Oh, yes.

Turn left and up the stairs.

Hi.

This will cut you up, sir.

It's a bit early in the day for me, Mr... Just Ben, sir.

If I had a last name, I'd forgotten it.

Well, it's only for when you're in trouble, isn't it, sir?

Law, taxes and elections.

That's when they want to know, don't they?

Bottoms up, sir.

Isn't it?

Bit and bob, sir.

Won't do you any harm.

How long have you been here, Ben? All my life, sir. Terrible, isn't it?

Never been to war, never been to sea, never been to London, never been a

football hooligan, never been unemployed, never been rich, never voted

There you have it, sir.

My whole story.

You're, uh... You're from up north, aren't you, sir?

Newcastle. But my wife's from Oxford. Born and bred.

Now, can we talk about Dr. Kerridge?

What was he like to look after?

Was he about keeping things just so?

Oh, I wish they were more like him, sir.

He was that tidy, you'd scarcely know he was there.

What about his private life?

Didn't have one in college, sir.

I imagine he left after those other places he had.

Friends? Enemies?

He was one of those people everybody got on with, sir.

Well, except for Mr. Doyle, Dale.

And that was just one of those stupid things that got right out of hand.

Mr Drysdale's away, I gather? Yes, sir.

He got a card from him only yesterday.

To show you how things were between them, when Dr

Kerridge heard about Mr Drysdale's cancer, he actually smiled.

I think I'd like to take a look at both their rooms, if that's possible.

Of course it is, sir.

I've got the keys right here.

Their little war is quite famous, you know.

When Mr Ballarat attacked Dr Kerrig in the Union, Mr Joyce, they were that

delighted. It was all over the college in no time.

What kind of attack did Mr. Ballarat make?

Oh, the usual Oxford kind, sir.

And a tap on his reputation.

You can imagine the trouble I have getting to water all these plants when

away.

You didn't know Mr. Ballarat, did you?

Of course I did, sir.

Used to be a great friend of Mr.

Drysdale's.

When was that?

When Mr.

Drysdale first got his fellowship.

Regular visitor Mr.

Ballarat was.

Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale used to entertain him all the time.

Mrs. Drysdale?

Oh, he was married, sir. Didn't you know?

I don't know why you should, considering how long ago it was.

What happened to her?

She ran off with Mr Ballarat.

Mr Drysdale wasn't half upset.

Ready to kill himself, he was.

You're a different gentleman after that, I can tell you.

How do you mean?

Sort of moody, sir.

Much more withdrawn.

And the funny thing is, Mrs Drysdale died three year after.

Maybe Mr Drysdale put a curse on her.

I wouldn't put it past him.

It depends on how heavy it was and what's been going through the lock.

If it was a busy day when it was choked in. Was it busy? Seven days ago.

It's high season now, isn't it? The place is full of trippers. Even the fish

all about laughing.

So if something the size of, say, a football, only heavier, something

say, about ten pounds, was thrown in from here a week ago...

What's your expert guess as to where it would be now?

Water will shoot anything every which way.

It's time the locks open.

What is it you're looking for exactly?

Well, a head, actually.

A head?

A man's head.

We know it hasn't gone straight to the bottom because we've looked.

An angler would soon holler hooking something like that.

Exactly. So what you're saying is it could have been washed to the right or

of where it was dumped.

Upstream or down.

Thank you, Lewis.

Well, if it was me, I'd start at the next lock -up.

And go which way?

Upstream or down?

I'll go north myself.

Thanks.

Thanks very much.

We already know who the body belongs to, sir, so why bother about the head?

You know the legend of Orpheus?

The thing in Greek?

The very same. They did teach you something in the frozen north.

When Demis Roussos confronted a kid there, that's who they compared him

This is the way to the lock.

This is the way to A lock.

Thank you, old boy.

Come, Bartha. I told you we had to go this way, and then...

We find a battered skull.

I say.

A battered skull.

Would you be awfully sweet and untie the paper for me?

Will you be able to handle it on your own? Of course I will.

But not for me.

I don't like to interrupt you, Lewis, but as I was trying to say... Sorry,

If we find Ballarat's battered skull, the chances are he was killed by the

person that killed Kerridge.

That's what the Yard, in their floppy way, are assuming.

And if the skull's got a bullet hole in it, we can assume there are two killers.

That, at the moment, is my theory.

Neeson? Not sure yet.

Maybe Deborah Burns?

Maybe even Drysdale.

Ah, he fell abroad.

Colleges are postcards for Rome.

Postmarks can be deceptive.

A foreign stamp on a smudged bit of franking does not mean it was posted

Let's get the underwater search unit out here again.

And while we wait...

H .A. receiving.

H .A. receiving. Over.

Thank you, Dave.

A cup of tea, sir.

Coffee.

Medicinal brandy?

Just take a few deep breaths.

I'm sure it's the formaldehyde.

What were you saying, Doctor?

Shot in the back of the head at close range.

The bullets are .32, I'd say. Quite old by the look of it.

Ballistics should know what fired it.

Guns are as distinctive as typewriters.

Not like those blasted word processors.

Robots used by robots.

Can't tell the difference.

You always knock him, see? If you knew how to get him to tell you what you

wanted. I still prefer a pen.

So do I.

One with a nib that you fell from a bottle.

You'd better get someone to identify the thing.

And if there's no next of kin, I think our friend Mr. Collins will do nicely,

don't you?

And if he's too busy to come, tell him we'll send it in a dispatch box.

That's a toothache. As if it had never been.

What about that drink?

Why not?

Tonight?

No, I can't tonight, I'm afraid. I'm going to a concert.

I like concerts. What are you going to see?

Metric Conversion.

Is that one of those serialists?

No, a pop group.

Not your kind of thing, Morse.

Maybe another time?

I trust so.

I can't join you, I'm afraid.

I'm rather pressed for time.

What was it?

Scotch.

Tell me about Ballarat, Alex.

Ballarat? Oh, didn't I tell you his was the body we found at Thrupp?

Ballarat.

Of course I will, though.

Why hasn't this been made public?

We weren't absolutely sure. We've only just found the head, you see.

My God.

Nasty, isn't it?

The length to which people will go.

Yes, it is a shock.

They were quite close, professionally, of course.

I thought he was an economist.

He put forward a few of my ideas to the peer, which I gather were favourably

received. Do you know if he put them forward as your ideas or his?

He was a gentleman, Morse. I repeat the question.

I'm sure he never stole another man's thoughts.

It happens, doesn't it?

It's an accusation that's often made by those with few original thoughts of

their own.

Ballarat never done such a thing.

I'm sure of it.

People change, don't they?

You don't. Now, if you'll excuse me. Heard anything from Miss Burns, by the

Why are you so interested in her? Is it professional or merely libidinous?

Like you, Alex.

A little bit of both.

I've heard nothing.

And if you saw my diary, well, ask Carol. She knows my every move.

I hope to be back by midnight, but you know this sort of delegates, they always

feel cheated if they don't drink till dawn.

Don't do too much. Good night.

Morse? Well, you heard his master's voice.

Dinner?

Where? You choose.

Bearing in mind that I am only a poor policeman.

I know just the place.

I've been wanting to try it for ages.

But I haven't had the courage on my own. Will I like it?

You're broad -minded as well as broad -shouldered, aren't you?

Trust me.

I must have found it interesting.

Oh, yes.

It's very unusual.

Thank you.

I still don't forgive you

After you denied me the fellowship.

You're going to take my work as yours. I wasn't going to have that.

It is mine.

You think that, but who gave you the groundwork?

You showed you the method, pointed you in the right direction.

Who got you published?

In a Scandinavian journal. There'll be others.

If you will.

Keep my mouth shut.

If you do, then I can help shape your future.

If not... Does that future include all this?

We make rather a good team, don't you think?

We can continue together or not.

It's your choice.

And if I choose not to?

Oh, that would be very sad.

For both of us.

Deborah? Now,

Miss Sharp.

Carol.

You got in about nine.

Ten -two. The traffic was good.

Was the door to the study open or closed?

Closed.

If it was open, that was a sign that he wanted me to go straight in.

And if it was closed?

Either he wasn't there or he didn't want to be disturbed.

So you left a chat and got on with your work?

Until I got a phone call from Lady Rees asking if her husband was in.

Apparently she couldn't get through on his private line.

So, naturally, I got up to see if he wanted to speak to her.

You mean sometimes he didn't?

As you know, the master is... Or rather, he was a very busy man.

He might have been in the middle of something or on the phone.

Surely your sergeant intercepts calls you don't want to take.

So you opened the door and found him lying there.

Would you normally be the first one to see him?

I mean, there wasn't a scout who's attached to the lodgings who'd wake him

with a cup of tea.

The lodgings has a cleaner who comes in later.

The master doesn't live here permanently, of course. He and Lady Rees

house in North Oxford.

He only stays here... stayed here when...

work dictated.

So you would be the first to see him?

Would anyone else know if he was in residence?

I mean, did he come and go via the porter's lodge, or is there a private

the street? Oh, there is a private door to which he has... had a key.

Only he had one.

And Lady Reith.

Were you expecting him to sleep here last night?

Oh, well, he often did after one of those conference dinners. They go on

late, and...

Well, since we were hard at work finishing the book.

Say he'd come back with someone.

You recognise this?

Miss Burns.

Joachim was, Miss Bensett.

I don't know, Lewis.

Highly strung, bent on revenge, yet the pieces don't quite fit.

If she was going to kill him, why would she sleep with him first?

Washington?

If you were a young girl, gone to the trouble of obtaining a gun,

travelled to Oxford all ready to use it, Would you be in the mood for love?

What if he tried to rape me?

All right. But what about Lady Rees?

If he was carrying on, she must have known about it.

Everybody knows everybody's business in this university.

Maybe she thought it was time to put a stop to her once and for all.

Good try, Lewis.

Unfortunately, Lady Rees is confined to a wheelchair.

Come on, let's see what Dr Russell has to say.

Make sure you get this area too.

Great. Thank you, John.

From the same gun that shot Mr Ballarat, I'd say.

Same sort of mark from the rifling of the barrel.

I'll send the bullets down to Ballistics for confirmation.

Ballistics said that other bullet could have been left over from the war.

You wouldn't think they'd keep that long, would you?

Careful, Lewis. I'd kept that long.

You realise this means Miss Burns is highly unlikely to be the killer?

Now, where would a girl like that get water and ammunition?

There's plenty of collectors about, sir.

Maybe her father or an old family friend.

Hmm.

What else can you tell us, Doctor?

Time of death around midnight, and from my examination, I'd say he'd recently

had sexual intercourse.

I think I'd better go and see Miss Burns.

She could be anywhere.

I'll start with her parents in London.

Meanwhile, you checked what kind of wartime gun used .32 ammo and could take

silencer.

One was obviously used if no one in a college full of carousing delegates

a thing.

Find out what kind of people were into you.

Oh,

by the way, how was decimalisation?

What?

Oh, you mean metric conversion.

Terrible.

Must be getting old.

Mrs. Burns.

My name is Morse, from Oxford.

Is Deborah in by any chance?

I'm so sorry, she's not here, Mr.

Morse. She's just taken Sabina, that's our other daughter Rachel's little girl,

to the zoo.

Oh, that's all right. I'm sure I'll find her. Thank you.

You never said you were a policeman.

Just want to know what happened.

Would you like a nice lolly?

Sorry, Sabina.

You wanted a camel ride, didn't you?

Yes, you did.

Come along.

Come back to the elephants later, I promise. Come on.

There's never any good with children or animals.

I realised I'd lost the earring when I got home.

I was in such a panic.

Why did you go and see him in the first place?

I wanted to confront him as I had Dr. Kerridge.

I just couldn't understand how someone who'd been so close to me as Alex could

have treated me that way, robbing me of both my job and my reputation.

You'd already threatened to expose Alex. Why didn't you?

Because I still loved him, I suppose.

So you went to see him.

How did you get into the lodgings?

I sent him a note at the high table saying I was waiting for him.

He came as soon as he could get away.

You know?

He can be very persuasive, you know.

I know.

Do you?

He persuaded you into bed.

What else did he persuade you of?

That if I was a good girl and kept my mouth shut, we could carry on just as

before. And he'd help me with my career.

And if he didn't?

I asked that.

He said that it was up to me if I made the wrong choice.

It would be very sad for both of us.

What do you think he meant?

The tone of his voice.

It made me go cold all over.

He was threatening you?

Letting me know how easily he could destroy me if he chose.

So then what happened?

We went to get some more champagne.

To celebrate. I don't know.

In the study.

I stayed in the bedroom.

Then I heard a couple of pops.

Like champagne corks exploding.

Then a cry.

I came out and there he was.

You saw nobody else?

The door closed.

I froze.

Then I ran to put on my clothes and got out as quickly as I could.

You could have reported it to the police, Miss Burns.

I thought about it. And then I thought, I'm the obvious suspect. I haven't an

alibi or any witnesses.

I just couldn't...

You can understand that, can't you?

But Sir Dryseld could still be armed.

There'll be no need for guns.

Well, he managed to kill Rhys with one, which he must have kept from his wartime

days in the SOE.

According to the War Museum, they were received with well rods.

It may look like a kid's pop gun, but it's lethal.

Come on, let's pick him up.

He's not going to kill anymore.

He can never tell, sir.

Sometimes they get a taste for it. And after three minutes... I know the man,

Lewis. He thinks of himself as a man of virtue.

His disease has turned him into a lunatic. It's in the best classical

Lewis. The man of virtue puts right the wrongs that have been done to him.

Meaning? You got old Ben.

To spill what everybody knew except us, that in the dim and distant past,

Ballarat ran off with Drysdale's wife.

You mean revenge? The oldest motive of all.

Why kill Rhys?

Because he pipped Drysdale for the Sheldon Lectureship, ended up master.

And Dr Carriage had been an enemy for years?

Which leaves only one to conquer.

The police? No, Lewis. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

Death? The New Testament.

My school assemblies were multicultural.

But I still don't understand how you can destroy... To the classical mind, the

way to conquer death is to become an Olympian, a hero who spends the

being fated by the gods.

How do you manage that, sir?

Well, the best route to heroism is via valiant deeds.

Killing people isn't very valiant, is it?

It is to a deranged mind.

You're agreeing with me, then? You think he's a nutter.

Cancer of the brain, according to the best available medical advice... Would

that be Dr Russell, sir?

Cancer of the brain can lead to profound character changes.

Trivial flights of a lifetime can assume gigantic proportions.

That's surely why we should protect ourselves.

How do we know he's in the college, anyway?

When a man's lived there for most of his adult life, where else would he go to

die?

Drysdale? Look at the mess you made me make.

It's a man.

Good. This is Chief Inspector Morse.

Where's Mr Drysdale?

You just missed him by two minutes, sir.

He only showed up this morning.

Very peculiar state he was.

How will you recognize him, sir? It has been a few years, and if he's ill...

Once you are taken to the universe, it is bosom, Lewis.

You're preserved like sleeping beauty in a rarefied atmosphere of hot air and

alcohol.

Aging is unknown.

Not that Drysdale was ever young.

There he is.

Mr. Drysdale!

Mr. Drysdale!

Mr. Dry's down!

Like Laius on the road to Thebes.

I don't suppose you remember much of your Greek.

Eh, Morse?

Where Oedipus killed his father.

Send for an ambulance, will you, Lewis? Right.

I've led him down the nights and down the days.

I've led him down the arches of the years.

I've led him down the labyrinthine ways of my own mind.

midst of tears I hid from him, and under running

laughter.

But with an hurrying chase, an unperturbed pace, deliberate speed,

majestic instancy, they beat, and a voice beat more instant

than the feet.

All things betray thee who betrayest me.

Maybe I was a murderer, having no scholarship taken away.

I wondered if you'd remember.

Cancer hasn't got to my memory, you know.

If you'd done any work at all, you could have got a first.

I doubt it.

I have a good memory, but a prosaic mind.

Perfect qualifications.

For a policeman, you mean?

Well, a junior fellow.

Where did your work go to pieces?

I suppose it was a woman.

Here.

Where do you think you're going?

He needs his plant, sir.

Cheer him up.

Cheer him up?

He's not just getting over a hernia operation, you know. He's being charged

murder. It'll never come to court, though, will it?

I mean, he's not going to live that long, is he?

Maybe not, but I'm not letting you... Let him have it.

What harm can he do?

I'll see what I can do. Off you go.

Can we talk about Ballarat?

Not a man to be trusted.

Not with anything.

How did you get him to carriage his flat?

Simple. His vanity.

Ah.

You wrote him the same sort of letter you wrote to carriage about appearing on

television. I'm told there are some people who would kill to get before the

cameras.

Man was an appropriate way of turning the tables, don't you think?

And you cut up the body?

Yes, wonderful invention, the axle.

Remarkably cheap, remarkably efficient, and simple to use.

There must have been quite a mass.

To cleanse the Ordean stables, Hercules diverted the river Alpheus.

I may do his plastic sheeting in a J -cloth. And you went to all that trouble

order to delay detection until you disposed of the rest of your victims.

The Hound of Heaven could not be deprived of its quarry.

Why bother taking the bits all the way to Thrup?

He could perfectly well have implicated Carriage by letting the corpse be

discovered in his flat.

So true.

I didn't want him to discover anything untoward.

I hoped to kill him when he least expected it.

You thought Carriage had blackened your name to the College Council in order to

get them to vote him in as Sheldon Lecturer.

He thought the same about you.

In the event, Rhys got the job.

But you and Kerridge became implacable enemies.

That's why you killed him.

Well, Cecilia, that has much to commend it.

Unfortunately, your conclusion's a false.

Oh, I tried.

I waited in his flat.

And when he finally succeeded in shaking off that tarsum...

Miss Burns, I went to him.

I would have shot him, but I had only four bullets left, some of which might

have been duds. And you wanted to be sure of a bullet for race.

That man was a cronus morse, devouring anyone who might conceivably threaten

him.

He achieved dubious eminence by destroying my good name and that of

whom you destroyed by bashing in his skull.

I did no such thing.

I attempted to strangle him, but failed.

Dr. Kerry, we are trying to master the bleater.

I lay in wait until he emerged from his flat, showed him my gun, got him to

unlock the gate to the garden where I intended to dispose of him.

Why didn't you?

Because he convinced me that it was not he who'd slandered my name to the

college council.

Which, as you correctly stated, was my assumption.

Never let it be said, I am deaf to persuasion.

So it must have been Rees.

That was my inevitable, if I may say so, correct conclusion.

And Rees who killed him.

Because of his overweening ambition, he couldn't bear to be exposed as a

plagiarist and a liar.

I rather doubt Kelly should have gone so far.

He was rather fond of a quiet life, as it was to be denied him.

Never owned a man a trumpet sounds from the hid battlements of eternity.

And fondly you made the trumpet sound for Rhys.

Who do you deny that he deserved it?

My days have crackled and gone up in

smoke, have puffed and burst like sudden starts on a stream.

Eh, failure's love.

Even dream, the dreamer.

And the lute, the lutenist.

Thank you, Mr. Drysdale.

I thought the chief superintendent was quite generous, didn't you, sir?

Considering you got it right about Rhys when he warned you off. You got it quite

right, Lewis, not in the academic sense.

We're not academic, though, are we, sir?

Thank goodness.

More.

Um, do you believe in birthdays?

Well, do I have a choice?

Well, it's my birthday today, and I've no one to celebrate with.

What about that drink? My dear, Grayling, I... Well, Sergeant Lewis

that you're a great connoisseur of country pubs.

Will you take me to one?

As a treat?

I'll pick you up at seven.

Thanks. Hold on a minute.

Happy birthday.

You shouldn't have.

school together.

Chief Inspector Morse, one of my colleagues.

What are you doing here?

Birthday weekend.

Your office told me where to find you.

Can I get you a drink, Sam?

Oh, great, thanks. Half a lager.

Grayling? Oh, thanks, I'm fine.

raised.