Original subtitles

Looks like the intruder gained entry through the back door, sir.

Lock's been tampered with.

For an art dealer, you'd think you've had more robust security.

Anything stolen, Sergeant?

We're checking now.

Sir, I think you should come and look at this.

Justice and divine vengeance.

Father? By Pierre -Paul Proudhon.

The painting, it was stolen.

Oh, so... So this Flambeau, he's your mate?

Well, I wouldn't exactly describe him as that.

Oh, I know how I'd describe him.

Look at those eyes.

But you know him, though? The world -famous thief?

And now a murderer.

What? Sorry.

You're right, Father.

Doesn't make sense.

Chief Inspector.

Sergeant. Father, Mrs Devine. Sorry to intrude on breakfast.

Intrude away.

As you are no doubt aware, I'm conducting a manhunt.

And given your association with the Guilty Party, Father, I'm placing

Goodfellow here on permanent watch.

On watch?

You'll be under his surveillance at all times.

You could... Absolutely necessary.

It's for your own safety, Father.

Flambeau is not the man you once knew.

He's now a killer.

If Flambeau tries to get in contact with you in any way, you're to inform us

immediately. Understood?

Absolutely.

Chief Inspector, Frambo is many things, but he is not a cold -blooded killer.

The evidence says otherwise.

You don't really think he's going to show up here, do you, sir? You know

be watching.

I'm not taking any chances, good fellow. He escaped me once before. I'm not

going to let it happen again.

This is the opportunity I've been waiting for.

Opportunity, sir?

To say goodbye to Kembleford for good and get back to Scotland Yard where I

belong.

Don't let me down, Sergeant.

Amen. Amen.

What a lovely, well -behaved little baby, Father.

Yes, he was, wasn't he?

I think he enjoyed himself.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Sergeant, I have to take confession.

A sinner in need of God's forgiveness.

Don't be called by appearance, father.

It's actually a fine vintage from the Loire Valley.

I'm relieved to see that being on the run for murder hasn't forced you to give

up on life's little pleasures.

It's the only thing keeping me going.

But once I'm innocent, it makes a refreshing change.

And the real culprit?

Given the number of people I've double -crossed, stolen from or generally vexed

over the years, it could be anyone.

And yet I believe I know where he or she is going to strike next.

Monte Carlo.

Three weeks ago.

A diamond theft.

I was nowhere near.

Four weeks before that, Berlin.

A pearl necklace.

And now the painting.

They're connected.

I've stolen them all before.

An auction heist in 1929.

25 years ago.

One of my earliest exploits.

Still wet behind the ears. Slightly less refined than I am now.

I sold them all on to private collectors.

And now someone's stealing them back.

It would appear so.

And what is this thief's next target?

There was one other item I stole that day.

Not right.

Gold bracelet, graved with the image of St. Nicholas of Myra.

It's been put up for sale by an anonymous seller.

Someone is going to great lengths to flush you out.

And they're not afraid to kill.

Whoever it is will be at that auction.

And so will I.

I'd like you there with me.

You do know, of course, that this is a trap.

If I'm to clear my name, I have no choice but to walk into it.

With me?

He's already killed.

Twice.

If we don't stop him, there's no reason to think he won't kill again.

Good morning, Sergeant.

Thought you might like a cup of tea.

Three sugars, two biscuits.

Thank you very much indeed, Father.

Any sign of Flambeau?

Not yet.

Inspector Sullivan has half the county out looking for him, though. Ah.

Well, I'll keep my eyes peeled.

I think that's sufficient cushions.

Tell me again.

Make occasional appearances at the window, always keeping my back turned.

If the sergeant comes in for any reason, I hide in your room and pretend to take

a nap.

Oh, yeah.

Foolproof.

Afternoon, sir.

Sign in.

Thank you, sir.

Sign in, please.

I'm Edwin Bly, auctioneer.

Joe Bloom, head of security. Why none of you carrying guns?

We're not licensed to carry firearms, sir.

There's a master criminal on the loose.

Arms up.

And I am responsible for a room full of valuables which I have no doubt he would

love to get his hands on.

Don't worry, sir. Me and my men are more than a match for flamboyant.

With or without weapons.

Thanks, John.

Afternoon, sir. Sign in, please.

It could be any one of them.

Do you know anything about the previous owners of the items you stole?

The Augustan records are long since gone.

There it is.

Beautiful, isn't it?

Mr. Garrick.

Collector of fine antiquities.

Christopher Lane.

Museum curator.

Father Brown.

Friend.

What interests you in the bracelet, if you don't mind me asking?

It was admired, St. Nicholas.

Friend and protector to all those in trouble or need.

Not to mention the inspiration for Santa Claus.

Are you planning to bid on it?

I haven't decided yet.

Oh, I hope so.

No fun if there isn't a bit of good -natured rivalry.

If you're an anonymous seller,

why bid yourself?

He has no intention of paying for it.

We'll drink some cigarettes, sir.

I didn't order anything. They were left at the bar with a note in a valuable

tippy -box. Elaine.

Is something wrong?

Should I call security?

No.

From a lifelong student of your work.

Bidding will begin in 15 minutes. Please make your way to the auction room.

The game's afoot.

In the window, not paraded around the garden. There's no point in putting on a

costume if I'm not going to perform.

Get back inside.

When I finish getting rid of these weeds.

Oh, no.

He's coming over.

Ah.

Wonder if I could trouble you for another cup of tea, Father.

Father Brown woke up with a bit of a frog in his throat this morning.

Well, he was all right with me when I was speaking to him earlier.

Oh, well, I'll get you a cup of sergeant.

Wait!

A minute.

Lock number one.

Queen Cleopatra, French neoclassical sculptural bust with a polished battle

finish and gold accents.

It's a prison tattoo.

I think you're right.

You keep an eye on him.

I'll keep an eye on Leicester.

Bidding begins.

He asked you to dress up in his spare cassock and he didn't tell you why?

He said the less we know, the better.

But he is with Flambeau. We didn't see Flambeau. That's not what I asked.

I'm sorry, Inspector. I know how this looks.

It looks like obstruction of justice.

I'll make it up to you, I promise.

Do you ever stop? I met with a nice Sunday roast or something.

For the last time, did Flambeau make contact with Father Brown?

Answer me right now! Sir, we've had a tip -off.

Anonymous. Flambeau's been spotted at an auction house.

You better pray I catch him.

24 -carat gold bracelet with a drop medallion with a depiction of St

Myra, Burgundian 15th century, attributed to the goldsmith known as the

of Bruges.

I'll start the bidding at £100.

I have 100. Do I hear 110?

10. We have 10.

And 20. 120 from the gentleman in the second row.

30. I have 130 pounds.

Any more bids?

Going once.

Going twice.

Sold to the gentleman in the first row.

Sergeant, seal off the droid.

All the doors are covered.

Everyone stay where you are.

We have reason to believe Hercule Flambeau is on the premises.

What did I tell you? I said everyone thoroughly, Sergeant, is likely to be in

disguise. Keep a lookout for... Father Brown.

I know it's a lot, darling, but she's 1016 once.

Well, how could I...

It's not you. It's not you. Everything moves so fast.

Of course we can afford Ed.

An impersonator.

With a vendetta against Flambeau.

He has led you up the garden path, Father.

A path known as aiding and abetting.

How did you know he was here?

Anonymous nipples.

That was the plan all along.

Her Flambeau caught red -handed.

What are you doing?

I'm just making sure nothing's missing.

That's a prison tattoo, isn't it?

It was a long time ago.

I don't want you anywhere near these valuables from now on. Understand?

How do you know it's a prison tattoo?

I have a wayward past.

I told you you should carry a gun.

I don't think we've been formally introduced.

Flambeau! Flambeau's here!

Innocent, is he?

Who are you?

What do you want?

I want to see you twisting on the end of a rope.

We don't have time.

Get with me.

I'm trusting you with the one bargaining chip we have left.

Hands on your head.

On your knees.

Hercule Flambeau.

I'm arresting you for robbery and murder.

You're not obliged to say anything, but anything you say will be given in

evidence.

Yes, yes, Hercule Flambeau was apprehended at approximately 1 .20pm

afternoon, bringing an end to a decades -long career of theft, fraud and

recently murder.

He will remain at Kembleford Police Station overnight and then appear at

Kembleford Magistrates Court tomorrow.

I would like to personally thank my team who performed with skill and bravery,

leading to the capture...

One of the most notorious criminals of our century.

Was anyone else injured?

Did you manage to recover the stolen item?

I have my officers searching the auction house as we speak. I have no doubt

it'll turn up.

Was anyone else injured?

Tragically, a security guard, Joe Bloom, was killed by Flambeau at the scene.

I must have found it.

Hidden it somewhere before he was caught.

Well, he's behind bars. He's going to hang.

That's what he wanted.

And?

And you said that when you got him, we would go away together and live out our

life together.

You know how much that bracelet means to me.

We're not going anywhere till I get it back.

The auctioneer.

He killed the security guard and stole the bracelet.

You must think I'm as gullible as Father Brown.

On the contrary.

I value Father Brown's acumen a great deal.

If only it were a trait more commonly preserved by serving police officers.

And yet here you are, behind bars.

A temporary situation, I assure you.

There are two guards posted outside your cell, three on watch outside the

station, and tomorrow I will personally accompany you to court.

You're finished, Flambeau.

The only way this ends is with you on the end of a noose.

Give me what?

One reason I shouldn't charge you as an accessory after the fact. Not just you.

Your darling little accomplices, too.

Mrs. Devine and Miss Palmer were acting under my instructions. I take full

responsibility.

Yes, well, luckily for you, given my recent victory, I'm feeling somewhat

charitable.

Not to mention that by the end of the week, with any luck, I'll be out of here

and won't have to deal with your interfering tithes and meddling ever

Get out of here before I change my mind.

Hercule Flambeau's right -handed.

What?

The stab wound in the security guard's back. It was on his left -hand side.

The auctioneer is left -handed.

I noticed when he was banging his gavel.

Careful now, Father.

And the strands of hair in the victim's hand.

were blonde, as was the auctioneer.

Except they had no cuticles, which means he was wearing a wig.

Flambeau has you chasing shadows, Father.

Perhaps.

But might it not also be that your desire for career advancement is

you? Blinding me?

Blinding you to the facts of this case.

Did you see anyone other than Flambeau running from the building?

No. Did you witness the murder?

No. Do you have any other evidence apart from a few strands of blonde,

cuticulous hair?

No.

Then the facts, Father, are these. You simply do not want to believe that your

friend is a cold -blooded killer, that he's beyond redemption, that you've

failed one of your flock.

And after all these years, the truth is, what difference have you made?

None.

Cannot save him any longer.

I have a few moments alone with Monsieur Flambeau.

Spiritual guidance.

Father.

I got out of prison before.

That was when you went in with a plan.

A plan that went catastrophically wrong, if you recall.

I got out of that, I'll get out of this.

In the meantime, your job is to clear my name of murder.

And how do you propose I do that?

The auctioneer, whoever he is, designed that bracelet a great deal. It means

something to him.

He was furious to let it go.

Even if I lure him out, then what?

Well, you do what you do best.

Get him to confess and repent.

Given his behaviour, I suspect he is a psychopath and unlikely to do either.

Then we are both doomed.

Where have you been?

We've been worried sick.

Early morning walk.

Clear my mind.

Consider my next move.

You've brought half the field in with you.

Our next move?

You're letting this alone.

This man is dangerous.

All the more reason that we're by your side.

I will not put either of you in harm's way.

You don't have a choice.

So what's our next move?

Well... I think I know where to start.

Well, thank you, Commissioner. That's very good of you to say. But a leader is

only as good as a man under his command. I give full credit to my team, who...

Well, I... I try to be serious.

Practically famed for my magnanimity back at the yard.

Of course, I'd be delighted.

Let me just check my diary.

I'm kind of perfect.

Yes, I know the one. Be sure around the corner from the yard.

I look forward to that too, sir.

Thank you.

Goodbye.

I look forward to discussing your future.

Worst reader words ever said.

Goodbye, Kempleford.

You... Muck -spreading little... Sir?

Yes, Sergeant, what is it?

Sorry to interrupt, sir.

No, no, no, go ahead.

Well, I've been going through the witness statements.

Couldn't find one for the auctioneer.

No -one saw him after the robbery.

Good fellow.

Have you been talking to Father Brown?

Oh, no, sir, no.

It's just with my inspector's exams coming up, I just wanted to make sure

dotted all the I's and crossed all the T's. We don't need the auctioneer's

statement to be caught, Flambeau. That's the thing.

The thing is, sir, I got his details from the auction house.

A man by the name of Edwin Blythe.

But when I telephoned him, that number was for dry cleaners.

So the auction house had a wrong number, clerical error.

Maybe.

But I also telephoned round some of the other auction houses.

Asked around.

No -one's ever heard of Edwin Blythe.

See if you can get his fingerprints from the gavel, cross -match them against

criminal records, but do it quietly, Sergeant.

Rightio, sir.

What are you looking at?

What are we even supposed to be looking for?

Well, to confront Flambeau's impersonator, I need to know who he is

gold bracelet means to him and what it is that he has against Flambeau.

1929.

Bingo.

Amongst the items stolen...

What a painting by Pierre -Paul Proudhon.

And a gold bracelet.

Offered for sale by the financier Magnus Fleming.

What's a financier doing selling a bracelet?

Good question.

So what now?

Keep looking.

City. City financier Magnus Fleming hangs himself.

Two weeks after the sale.

City financier Magnus Fleming is destitute after the London

stock market crash.

A widower, he leaves behind his only child, Sebastian Fleming, aged 12.

He'd be 37 now.

Do you think it were him?

Orphaned at 12.

How awful for him.

What's going on?

Power cut?

No, the microfilm read is still working.

Who's there?

The brain of your ribs. Keep it juggling and it goes in.

Do as he says, Miss Palmer.

What do you want?

You. No, Palmer!

On condition.

But you leave him alone.

Agreed.

If you try to follow us, we'll kill him.

Understand?

Please, don't hurt him.

That depends on you.

Both of you.

Shall we?

Your solicitor, Mr. Barrington.

You've got 15 minutes.

If you touch me, he dies.

If you tell the sergeant, he dies.

If I'm not back in half an hour, he dies.

Father Brown.

Started making this when I was 12 years old.

A few days after I found my father hanging by the neck.

Not out of any sort of idolisation, you understand.

But because I needed to learn everything I could about you.

So that one day I could hunt you down and make you pay.

And now here we are.

Finally.

Face to face.

You blame me for your father's suicide.

Oh.

I blame you for lots of things.

Four years in an orphanage full of torment and worse.

The theft of the only thing I have left of my mother. The bracelet. She gave it

to me for my deathbed.

Told me the story of St. Nicholas, the patron saint and protector of children.

Said that he'd always keep me safe.

And when the cancer took her, I clung on to those words and to that bracelet

until you stole it.

It was up for auction. You'd have lost it anyway.

It wasn't his cell and it wasn't yours. I begged him not to.

But he said it was all that we had left, that we'd be out on the streets.

I'm sorry for your misfortune.

But I'm not to blame for turning you into a raving psychopath.

You took everything from me.

You owe me that bracelet.

And if you truly are the honourable thief you claim to be, you'll tell me

you've hidden it.

I'll be the last decent thing you do before you die.

Or alternatively, I could leave here and slit Father Brown's throat.

I'm going to choke the life out of you.

This is your last chance.

Sergeant.

I'll no longer be needing legal representation.

Bring him out, officer.

Speaking of one of the witnesses, sir, the auctioneer wore gloves throughout

bidding process.

And no fingerprints on the gavel? No, sir. But the lab confirmed that the hair

that was in the security guard's fingers was from a blonde wig. Now, I think we

can get Charley in.

I have more pressing matters right now, Sergeant. I'll deal with this later.

Flambeau, over here.

Is this the end for you?

I don't have any trouble with you, my Flambeau. It's only the pleasure of my

company. Good morning, everyone.

Flambeau!

What? Tell me, Inspector.

Why is it you're back in charming little Campbellford?

I thought you'd moved on to greater things.

It appears I came back to do important work.

By putting you behind bars.

Indeed.

This must be the highlight of your career.

Catching a great flambeau.

I'd have hoped for a little gratitude.

Gratitude?

For raising your profile.

Sharing the limelight.

Whatever becomes of you after this will be entirely due to me.

I'll be sure to send you a thank you note for my good fortune.

Oh, I'm not talking about good fortune.

I'm talking about embarrassment.

Embarrassment?

Keep going.

I'm throwing him out in five seconds.

Five, four, three, two, one.

Don't worry.

I won't rest until I find him. Neither will we. Thank you, Sergeant.

Get inside.

Lock the doors.

Time's running out, isn't it?

Yeah, you've got one minute left.

It seems Sebastian will sacrifice everything to gain his heart's desire.

Even you, Lyla.

And if he's anything like Flamba, he will be using you.

And he uses all women.

Only insofar as they are helpful to him.

Lala, I know when...

Well...

He

didn't tell you where it is, did he?

Which means he signed your death warrant.

He didn't tell you because he doesn't know.

What are you saying?

He gave it to me.

Where is it?

I think I know why the bracelet is so important to you.

Because no matter how many disguises you use, you can't hide the frightened

little boy in that photograph.

Not quite.

Where's the bracelet?

Is that all you can think about?

Father Brown's been kidnapped.

And that bracelet's your only chance of seeing him alive again.

Where is it?

Well, how should we know?

He didn't tell you where he hid it? Well, he didn't tell us he had it.

Um, maybe the study?

Or the church?

He wouldn't have kept it so close.

Lavender. On his boots when he came back from his walk this morning.

Oh, the lavender fields.

It's worth a shot. Where is it? Well, we'll take you to him. No, I need

directions. We weren't asking for permission.

We're coming.

We'll get there in my Hercules.

You what?

Well, how do we know where he hid it?

He would have left a marker of some kind.

Good afternoon.

I think he recognised you.

Which means he's calling the police.

The clock's ticking.

We'll split up. Get down!

How long do you think it'll take for them to find it?

Not long enough.

Sebastian will cut his throat after he gives them the bracelet.

You wrapped it up.

Why do you do that?

Because it's precious.

Give my regards to Flambeau on his execution day.

What was that?

What are you doing here? Come any closer and I'll knock your block off!

Answer her!

That's not very gentlemanly of you, threatening a young lady.

Reports of my incarceration have been greatly exaggerated.

We need to go.

Let him, please.

Run if you want.

I'm staying to finish what I started.

You promise?

No!

If you kill him, you are no better than he is.

Perhaps I'm not doomed after all, Father.

No, no, no, not my car!

Not my heart! You leave!

What is this?

Where is Flambeau?

Well, who is this?

It's the killer you were looking for.

Sullivan.

Commissioner, before you say anything, I want you to know that I have every man

available canvassing the entire... We believe Flambeau used a staple

to unlock the handcuffs and... I don't know, sir, but I am... Rest assured, I

conducting a full investigation... Of course not, no.

The last thing I want to do is cause the department any embarrassment.

I will give you a full report on Friday when we meet for... I understand.

Perhaps we can reschedule for...

Do you think they'll catch him?

I doubt it.

You sound pleased about that, Father.

Flambeau may well deserve a prison sentence, but I still believe there's a

man in there.

And you still believe that?

Even after he was throttling that bloke?

Sorry to interrupt.

Door's open.

Good morning, Sergeant.

What can we do for you?

Found your car, Mrs Devine.

Abandoned in some woods about 20 miles away. Thank you.

Enframbo?

I think we owe you an apology, Sergeant.

I think you do.

Yes, I know.

I'm sorry.

Sorry?

Sorry. But you must admit, I completely captured Father Brown's mannerisms. It's

no wonder you couldn't tell the difference.

A policy accepted, I suppose.

As for Flambeau, well, he's disappeared into thin air.

We did apprehend Sebastian's accomplice and we recovered the bracelet.

And the inspector, dare I ask?

A few cuts and bruises, but it's his pride that's hurting him more than

else. Oh, dear.

Perhaps I should pay him a visit.

No!

You can watch all episodes of Father Brown on iPlayer or come back same time

next week on BBC One.

A stunning performance from Sarah Lancashire, intense crime drama Happy

Press read now to watch on iPlayer.

Alan gets arty, Amanda talks plants, the courtyard harder than they thought.

Amanda and Alan's Italian job is at 8 .30.