Original subtitles

Cuaro? Cuaro?

Hello! Ah,

Cuaro. Welcome to Acapulco.

What happened to you? You've gone native, have you? Are you a beachcomber,

perhaps? Oh, well, when in Rome, you know.

I mean, no point looking like a tourist, is there? No.

Poirot? No. No.

So, what's all this about your radio memoirs, then?

Yes, it's true, I'm afraid.

Yes, I was made an offer which I could not refuse.

But I must say it fills me with dread that Hercule Poirot is at last to be

revealing all, well, almost all, to his adoring public.

This is your car?

Yes. Nifty little bus, isn't she?

You're sure it is a car. It looks like some sort of kitchen appliance.

Women should beat their laundry against that.

Have you thought of a title yet?

I haven't even started writing it yet.

I know, but knowing you, I'm sure you've got some excellent ideas.

Well, the publisher came up with My Life in Crime by Hercule Poirot.

My Life in Crime. That's jolly good.

Rather clever, isn't it? Yes, it could even be My Lifetime in Crime.

I don't suppose you're going to mention that silly little episode in Normandy,

are you?

You know, the enormous French woman.

Oh, the enormous woman in Norfolk. Yes,

well, it's not that funny. I mean, think of my family.

They've got to read this book of yours.

Well, think of my reputation.

Writing your memoirs is not a joke, you know. The truth must be respected at all

times. That is, unless... Unless what?

Unless you get me out of this stupid house party. Take me to a hotel. Forget

about me. You know I hate these things.

Yes, yes, but you're going to thank me this time, Mario.

You always say that.

Remember the last time? What happened? The fireworks?

The dead trombone player?

Yes, but this place is absolutely magnificent.

Frankly, a nice bunch of Americans, too.

They live here most of the year round. Oh, this insane enthusiasm.

And the result is always the contrary.

This time, for the first time, we've got Americans.

Yes, but one of them is another author. I thought that you two could compare

notes. Another writer?

Is there such a thing?

Martin Bloodwall, the playwright.

He's actually a woman, though. Miss Janet Crisp.

You mean he's undergone that frightful... Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

Poirot, nothing like that. No, dear me.

No, she just... Works are the name of the man.

Yeah, it's her, what you Belgians would call, non de plume.

And then, of course, well, there's Charles Cartwright.

Charles Cartwright, American actor.

Yes, he played the inspector in Death is Two Parts, remember?

And he was the naval commander in North Atlantic.

He uses a limp sometimes.

A limp?

Yeah, good character touch.

That says a lot about a man, a limp does.

And then there's Egg and her mother.

Hey, hmm a mother must be ahead

Oh

Excuse

me, I may introduce a Hercule Poirot.

This is Jennifer Eastman. How do you do?

Call me egg. If you like everybody done What timing?

Oh, you mean the accident. I'm really sorry. I'm in a bit of a rush.

Are you going to Crow's Nest?

Yes, we are, as a matter of fact.

Oh, good. I'll see you tonight, then.

Mr. Poirot, it was nice almost running into you.

Oh, do you like the hat on or off?

Off.

Oh, well, I'll see you later.

It's a rather hard -boiled little egg, if you ask me.

I suppose you found her in the crow's nest.

Oh, no, no, no, no. The crow's nest is where we are staying.

Yes, it's Charles Cartwright's house.

Charles retired from show business to this place about a year ago.

He refers to it as his cottage.

Well, his limp seems to have served him well.

afternoon, Miss Millray. May I introduce Hercule Poirot, Miss Millray, Charles's

secretary.

Charles's assistant.

Yes, of course. Sorry.

I'm enchanted, madame.

Mademoiselle.

Miguel will show you to your room.

She's rather touchy, old man. Not to worry.

You speak English?

Oh, well, all right.

After you, old man.

Who are those people? Well, the man's Dr.

Wallace Strange. He's an American neurologist. He's rather famous, and he

sanatorium in the country near here.

And the woman next to him, well... Well, that's Angela Stafford. You recognize

her, of course.

No. Oh, come off it, Poirot.

I mean, even I know that Angela Stafford, the American actress, has been

leading light on Broadway for 20 years.

Well, I've not been entirely inactive during that time, you know. I do not

need... Broadway for my dramas.

Who's that woman in long trousers there?

That's Miss Janet Criss, the playwright. Oh.

No, no, no, you weren't listening. No, the thing is, it's a nom de plus, you

see. I'm pulling your leg. I know. I was... Oh, Miguel.

Where's Señor Cartwright?

Um... Donde el Señor Cartwright?

Allá, señor.

Ah. Oh, look, yes.

Ahoy there, Captain Cartwright.

Look at him up there.

Oh, this is great.

Great. You're having too much fun again, Charles.

You're acting like a 20 -year -old. I feel like a 20 -year -old. It must be

those vitamins that Mill Ray's been giving me. Or it's the company you're

keeping. Or maybe it's the company I'm keeping.

Well, you know, it's an absolute mystery to me.

What's that?

Charles' adjustment to retired life.

I thought for one that he would fight it tooth and nail.

Oh, this isn't exactly Devil's Island, is it? I mean, he has seen to all the

amenities.

Yes, but, you know, to give up a career in both film and the state and then get

rid of those wonderful places in both California and Paris.

And New York.

And New York.

Now, there was a house.

Did you ever see that one?

Yes.

I helped decorate it.

I'm sorry.

Charles and I were doing private lives on Broadway together at the town.

I forgot that you two were... It's all right, Wally.

It's easily forgotten.

By some people, perhaps.

Who's that playing first mate?

Oh, that's Daisy Eastman's daughter.

Egg, they call her. She'll be coming tonight.

There's your answer, Doctor.

To the mystery of Charles Cartwright's successful retirement.

What, you mean that girl?

Mm -hmm. Oh, I don't think so.

She's just a child.

So is Charles.

But then you should know that better than anyone.

Hello.

Arthur, how are you? I'm fine, thank you. I just must be accused for...

have admired your art for more than 20 years.

Isn't this Janet Criss? How do you do?

This is Dr.

Strange. Pleasure.

Wonderful work.

And, yes, out there, of course, our host, Charles Carter. Oh, hello.

They're waving at us.

Hello. That's really nice.

Hello.

That's Wally up there, and standing next to him is Angela.

Angela Stafford? Mm -hmm. She's nice. A lot of fun. You're going to like her.

That's Hastings.

And that's the great Perrault.

Oh, and what makes Perrault so great?

He happens to be the most famous detective in the world.

Perrault! I guess that means there won't be any exciting crimes around here this

weekend. No knives in the back or anything like that?

The murder weapon, Mr. Perrault.

Oh, no, no. I'm just ruminating about this sword. It must have killed several

people during battles.

And here it is, living out its retirement on the wall of a glamorous

Appearances can be deceiving, Monsieur Perrault.

If I'm not mistaken, that's a prop.

A prop?

Yes. Oh, you mean the... Yes, yes.

Charles brandished it in the Royal Dragoon, I believe. The Royal Dragoon?

well, well, the two writers huddling together.

Did you know that Monsieur Perrault was a writer?

His memoirs, you mean? Yes, yes, I've heard.

In order to be a writer, one must have written.

Absolutely.

Well, Wally, will you look after the two writers while I mix us some drinks?

Do you also write for the cinema?

No, only for the theater.

I'm a bit of a snob, I suppose.

I write satires.

Brittle little comedies, that sort of thing.

But I must confess that I've always had a particular fun for murder.

Here you are. That egg girl called while you were dressing. She wanted to know

if she could bring someone else.

Did she say who?

No, she didn't.

Well, in some cases, you see, events come to people, not people to events.

For example, one man can travel to the ends of the earth and nothing will ever

happen to him, while another man can barely get across town without being

involved in a hold -up or a car crash or whatever.

And you think I belong to the second category, of course.

Mr. Poirot, from what I understand, you don't exactly have to go looking around

for a crime to solve. I should say not. Tell me about that trombone player.

Or the French woman, perhaps. Oh, here are the Eastmans.

Excuse me.

Ricardo. Ricardo.

How are you?

That mother and daughter, they

live in Acapulco? Yeah, charming.

Yes, he used to be quite well off shipping you there.

Shipping?

Ricardo, hello.

How is your father? Very well, thank you. He's in Washington these days. Yes,

well, give him my best wishes when you talk to him. I certainly will. Thanks

being here. Thank you.

Yeah, so is that.

Jack for the tray.

I hope martinis are okay. I know you love martinis.

Somebody I want you to meet.

This is Hercule Poirot, the famous detective. I've been telling you about

This is my mother.

It's not possible. Such a young mother.

I'm delighted to meet you.

Especially after your brush with death today.

Brush with death? The egg in her car.

Oh, the car!

Oh, the whole of my life flashed before my eyes.

It was all Hastings' fault. I say.

Yes, it was. Come to think of it, it was all your fault, Hastings. Steady.

Who is the young gentleman?

Ricardo Montoya, Monsieur Perrault. Ricardo Montoya.

Nice to meet you.

Be careful. Ricardo is the communist.

Cynthia Dayton, the Reverend and Mrs.

Babington.

Come on in. I'm making some drinks.

Oh, what a good idea.

My dear, you look absolutely divine. Did you do it, Cynthia?

Yes. You've been holding out on me.

Hi. How are you?

I'm glad to see you.

Oh, hey.

Have you met Angela?

No, I don't believe I have.

You're the actress, aren't you?

Yes.

How do you do?

Oh, and my orchids, Charles.

You can't imagine how they're blooming. It's a miracle.

Oh, I'm so happy to hear that. What's all this about miracles?

I thought that was my domain.

Oh, we're talking about orchid play. My dear Patrick. He'll lecture you about

manure again. Always talking to me about manure.

Bill Ray, thank you very much.

I've got some fortune now. Yes.

You're doing all right. Thank you very much.

Oh,

Charles, you'll just have to wait for the fall collection.

You can have a drink, Mother, but just one.

Thank you, dear.

Not for me, though.

Joe, Joe, to you and your quaint little cottage here.

Oh, the

car's giving me the menu, right?

Let me see if I've got this right. We're going to have grilled sole, pheasant

under glass.

We're having chip potato and the chocolate souffle. How does that sound?

Freddy's dead.

I'll come and visit you tomorrow morning.

Okay, I'm terribly sorry.

See that you get him.

Extraordinary thing, Quirrell.

I hadn't even been introduced to the poor chap then.

No, it was very sudden.

Mr. Poirot, could we speak to you for a moment, please?

You too, Hastings.

Oh, yes, of course, yes.

This way, please.

Come in, please.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Charles.

Doesn't like it.

Reverend Babington's death, I mean. Well, of course he doesn't. It's most

distressing. And painful, too, judging from the poor man's expression.

Wally, did you ever see a man die like that before?

No, I haven't. But as a nerve specialist, I haven't seen that many

before. Dr. Vega has probably seen many more deaths than I have. Vega?

The doctor who was here tonight. Oh, yeah.

Wally, he wasn't here when the man died.

He's just guessing what kind of a seizure it was.

What are you suggesting, Charles?

Mallory?

It's a possibility.

And how? With some new unplaceable poison in a cocktail glass, perhaps?

Wally, it isn't funny. I make those drinks myself.

It is a possibility, isn't it, Charles?

Logically, I would say it is not a possibility.

To kill an old man like that at a cocktail party, it would be extremely

difficult, to say the least. Why?

Why? How would a murderer be sure that the old man would take that particular

glass out of a row of identical glasses which were being passed at random on a

train? No, no.

And the motive.

What would the motive be? To kill an innocent old clergyman like that? No.

He was not secretly wealthy by any chance.

Quite the contrary.

I should imagine.

Excuse me, but wealth doesn't necessarily have to be a motive.

You ought

to have his

glass analyzed.

Well, it's a little late for that, Charles. McMillray has obviously had the

glasses washed.

Yes, he had them all washed. All except this one.

Poirot, I thought you said it wasn't murder.

Oh, sorry, murder.

Well, my logic tells me it's not murder, but my instinct keeps tapping me on the

shoulder. I'm sure Charles knows what I mean.

Yes, I don't see any harm in having the glass analyzed.

Meanwhile...

I

think we ought to agree to keep this secret for the time being.

There's no point in alarming the killer, if there is one.

And I should hate to have a wonderful house party like this spoiled by the

that one of the guests is accused of murder.

I don't think so.

The cat got out of the bag. Mill Ray told everybody about the missing glass.

But what did the analysis show? Yes, but what are the results, monsieur? Is

there a murderer in our mix?

No, there's nothing unusual.

There was nothing in Reverend Babington's glass except gin and

Of course there wasn't. It was absurd to think that there was.

I think we can go now, Freddy.

Miguel, fetch our bags.

You know, the analysis and everything, that was my idea.

I thought it was a great idea.

Well, I didn't.

Which one of us did you take for the murder, Monsieur Poirot?

There was no murder.

Well, what exactly were the doctor's findings?

Nothing untoward.

Natural causes.

What about an autopsy?

Oh, come now, Eric. Really capture her imagination.

Can't you talk her out of all this foolishness?

It was a possibility.

What? That one of us killed the old man?

Yeah.

I simply don't agree.

Neither do I.

Thank you for your hospitality, Charles. It certainly wasn't dull.

Yes. Ricardo, are you ready? Yes, ma 'am. Charles, thank you for everything.

come by when you have a chance.

Goodbye, Daisy. Egg.

Adieu, Charles.

Goodbye, Egg.

I was afraid this would happen So was I

Excuse me, your collar.

Thank you.

Absolutely.

Don't you guys look dapper?

Are you not coming with us?

No, I don't think so. I'm going to beat a graceful retreat, as they say.

How do you mean?

I'm leaving here. I'm moving out.

What's this?

Who's leaving?

Oh, yeah. I'm, uh...

I'm going to abandon ship, as you said I would. I'm going to put the house up

for sale.

Sell? Yes, I'm going to sell it.

I'm going to put up the place for sale. Anybody want to buy a house, just check

with Millway over there.

Don't you think you're being a bit hasty, Charles? I mean, just because

drops dead in your living room.

That had nothing to do with it.

Maybe it does have something to do with it. I don't know. I just want to clear

out. I want to cut my losses.

Charles, where are you going to run to this time?

Wally, I'm not running anywhere. I'm just getting out. Is that okay by you?

Good night.

Good night.

That's in my heart.

Well, is it true? That child's going away.

Haven't you heard? He's already gone.

Oh. Where?

Where's he gone? I don't know. It was all very sudden, very dramatic.

It's that Angela Stafford, isn't it? Gotta be her. No, never.

He liked me. I know he liked me.

I'm sure he still does like me.

I think he still does like me. Of course he does.

Then why's he gone away like this without saying anything?

He must have thought it was for the best.

Then it's Babington's murder.

Of course.

That's why he's there.

He's still upset about it.

Babington's death, perhaps, but... I must remind you, mademoiselle, there is

murder. Of course there is.

I thought you were on our side.

Peru is only on the side of one thing, and that is the truth.

Don't be close, you know. Anyway, go.

Good morning. You're going back to L .A. already?

Yes, the publisher beckons.

Right, memoirs. Yes.

Listen, Charles has a house in L .A.

It's in Bel Air, I think. If I run into him, I'll tell him that you send your

warmest regards.

Just tell him that I'm terribly disappointed.

Oh, heartbroken. Maybe you should tell him I'm heartbroken.

Heartbroken, are you sure?

Yes. All right, heartbroken it is. Come, come.

Charles yet? No, I'm afraid I've been too busy.

Well, when you do, tell him that something rather odd is going on around

That's why we called.

Hastings and I just ran into each other and discovered we've been invited to the

same house party tonight by Dr. Strange.

Everybody has, it seems.

What do you mean, everybody?

Everybody. Charles' party.

The Datons, Angela Stafford, Janet Crisp.

Everybody, except you and Charles, and maybe Ricardo.

The weird thing is, though, is that Dr. Strange won't say why.

Is it not for dinner?

Yes, yes. But when I called him, he was being rather evasive.

He said there was going to be a surprise or something like that, a revelation.

Well, perhaps somebody's going to jump out of a cake.

Don't you find this the least bit intriguing?

It may be a chance to uncover a motive for Babington's murder. There is no

motive simply because there is no murder.

And now, if you will excuse me, I have a book to write. I'm working so hard I

can't even sleep anymore. It's terrible.

But... Yes, and my kindest regards to our friend the beachcomber.

Rain of Tardis.

Strange old place, isn't it? Oh, Ed, please.

Oh, and don't start delving into everyone's past.

There's nothing that spoils the appetite but a polite accusation of murder.

Yeah, well, you nearly murdered me in that car.

Oh, Ed.

When I've noticed.

Well, come in, come in.

Ed, how are you?

Daisy.

Fashionably late as usual.

Oh,

you know, it's too bad Mr. Poirot couldn't be here. How's the book coming?

Oh, wonderfully well. What he says, um, the words, uh... Flowing. Oh, flowing

from his pen, yes. Flowing.

Well,

see who it is.

I'm Ricardo Montoya.

Pase.

Un momento, por favor.

Señor Ricardo Montoya.

Montoya?

Well, show him in.

I don't know what's he doing here.

Didn't you invite him in?

No.

Well, we'll see.

Hello, everyone.

Ricardo. Nice to see you.

I'm awfully sorry for barging in like this, but you see, I had a bit of an

accident down the road from here. Well, there is always room for one more.

Rosa, another chair, please, for Mr. Montoya. Appreciate that. Thank you.

Nothing to worry about. I just smashed up the car and I could get it started

again. Just cruising through the neighborhood, were you? Yes, just

It's the sanatorium about Mrs.

Rushbridger.

Mrs. Rushbridger?

Well,

that's quite a mouthful, Carlos. You're a talented fellow, a first -class

butler. Isn't he, Rosa?

Will you excuse me, please?

Why do I put... Do not disturb.

Oh, hello.

Are you all right?

Yes. Then why didn't you answer the phone?

I unplugged it. I'm trying to hide.

Well, I thought you were dead.

Thank you, officer. I'm sorry. Thank you very much.

Perot.

It's... You thought I was dead? It's happened again.

This time it's Wally.

Wally's dead.

Was he murdered? Well, I don't know. I don't know. I'm flying down there

immediately. Please.

Perot, I need you down there. Won't you come with me, please?

Ah, gentlemen.

I'm Colonel Matteo. It is an honor to meet you both.

I have seen many of your films, Signor Cartwright. And, of course, the famous

Hercule Poirot.

It's not the first time we meet, you know.

The Managua affair?

Ah, what a memory.

I was only a corporal then.

Yes, but like Napoleon, a very talented corporal.

Thank you.

Oh, I must tell you something right now. Please.

My wife and I think you were magnificent, North Atlantic.

Oh, thank you. Very, very good. Thank you very much. They don't make movies

that anymore. No, I guess they don't.

Did you see it?

Huh? Oh, wonderful.

Wonderful.

So, when is your next film?

There's not going to be one for a while.

Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that. Don't be sorry. And especially to meet you

under such circumstances. Yeah, this is terrible.

Terrible. Were you a friend of Dr. Strange's? Yes, he was my friend.

What happened? He was poisoned.

Poisoned? By his, uh... How do you say it?

His butler.

Butler?

That's not possible, sir. I mean, Roberto was with him for years.

Oh, no, no, no, no. Roberto's out on a vacation.

This is a new man. In fact, he slipped away from us last night after we

questioned him. I know how that seems, but we had three men posted.

Did he know that you suspected him?

We did not suspect of him until after we questioned him. Now we know he's a very

clever butler. He always wore gloves, no fingerprints.

What poison was used?

Benzotin. It is very common and very deadly. They use it to spray it on

and such.

Orchids? Well, I hear that before.

With your permission, may we see the butler's room?

Oh, yes. Please follow me.

Miss Stafford thinks that he may have escaped through a secret passage.

She says that Dr. Strange mentioned there was one in the house somewhere.

You never told me about it. Did you find one? No, not yet.

Tell me, how was the person administered?

We don't know.

He was drinking wine.

We have had the glass analyzed, but there was nothing.

Just the same, just like Babington.

Ah, Babington, yes.

Yes, I have heard of this. From this young woman called Egg.

But I think it's a coincidence that you yourself were satisfied it was not a

murder. Didn't seem to me.

Well, as you can see, the butler left nothing behind.

Hey.

I'm so glad you've come.

Yes. It's all so horrible.

Yes.

So, Mr. Poirot, what do you think now?

You're referring, I presume, to the death of the Reverend Babington.

I refer to his murder.

You don't believe any of this nonsense about the butler, do you? It is not

nonsense, Senorita.

It's not a coincidence either.

I'll tell you what I think. I think Dr.

Strange invited the same people to dinner because he suspected one of them

Babington's murder.

But before he could see anything, the poor man was murdered himself.

Who does?

This is Dr. Strange's diary.

Just a few lines for yesterday.

Party tonight.

Hope all goes well.

I'm worried about Em, though.

Don't like the look of things.

Can I see that, please?

Yes.

Worried about Em?

Who could that be?

Ricardo Montoya put in an appearance last night, did you not?

Yes, he did.

So did Carlos Morales.

Who?

Carlos Morales.

The butler.

It's really all I can tell you. It all happened so suddenly.

Now, what about Wally?

Was he nervous, preoccupied, anything?

I mean, irritable?

No, not in the least.

In fact, he was in very good spirits. He was even laughing and joking with the

butler that Carlos carried to him. Laughing and joking with the butler?

hard for me to believe.

When was that?

After Carlos told him there was a telephone call from the sanatorium.

It was about a Mrs. Rush Bridger.

I remember, because Wally was teasing him about mispronouncing the name.

Then he said he was a good butler, or something like that.

Doesn't sound like Wally, you know?

What was that name?

This is Rush Bridger. I think we could go look her up.

Just you and me?

We make a good team, don't we?

I think so.

You heard nothing? You saw nothing?

Yes, I have already told you this.

I know you have, but the young gentleman said he has his accident here, beneath

El Castillo, he said. And what is that if it's not El Castillo?

Yes, but that happened further up the road.

Listen, all I know is that this man pushes his car into here, and he told me

had a crash.

Then I look out and I see...

The front light of the car was broken.

Then he asked me if he could leave his car here, and I said yes, that's all.

You know... Listen,

I hear that there is a, how shall I put it, private entrance into the grounds of

El Castillo.

I don't know anything about it, sir.

You mean in all the time that you've been here, you've never seen anybody

in or go out from here into the grounds of El Castillo?

No, sir.

You've been extremely helpful to us. Thank you very much.

Oh, one final question.

At what time did the young man fetch his car?

You don't know.

I don't know.

When I came this morning, the car was gone.

And when you left last night, the car was here.

Would you, uh, would you like me to drive? No, no, I'm fine.

So go on, you were telling me about the other possibility.

Well, this could be a long shot, but what if the rush fidget call was nothing

more than just a code of some kind?

I mean, what if Wally hired someone to look into the Babington death like a

private investigator while everyone was spending the weekend at El Castillo?

You mean you were searching everybody's houses? Well, the main suspect's house.

He'd find something.

Then he calls back with the agreed -upon message.

Mrs. Rush Bridger has arrived.

The butler delivers it, and Wally breaks out of the grid.

He's solved the murder. Huh?

He's feeling great. He says to the butler, you're a great butler, or

like that. What do you think?

So why'd the butler disappear?

Yeah, why did the butler disappear? Well, maybe he's got something on him. I

don't know. It was just a thought.

They are all having supper, sir.

Just like I said.

Are you sure this is all right with Colonel Mateo? Of course.

Thank you for your help so far.

Buenas tardes, senor.

Poirot, I'm awfully sorry, but I still don't quite understand why we're going

the library. I mean, nobody went in there that night.

With the possible exception of the butler. He must have disappeared

After all, he's not a magician.

Yes, but in the library... Just a minute.

The secret... Have you ever known a secret passage that does not start in a

library? Well, now you come to mention it, I... No, of course not.

We'll start here because the safe is nearly always behind a picture and the

secret passage is nearly always behind a book.

Good Lord!

After you, Elmer.

Every time there's danger, you'll manage to become invincible.

Oh, thank you very much.

Are you having trouble?

No.

I don't know what this is for.

It's all we can do now.

Hello?

Huh?

Be careful.

There's a step. I never thought I'd end my life at a cinema

usher night.

I hope there's nothing electrified here.

Oh, it actually looks there.

Oh.

Right.

No, no, no, we'll have to go back.

Oh, I second that.

After you, old man.

Oh, so good night.

It's always the same story with you.

I wonder if there are any rats here.

One more word out of you, Hastings. Do you hear me? Not one word.

It's not my fault.

Who said it would be different this time? Such nice people, interesting

American people.

It was you.

I'm never going to come out with you again. This is the last time.

Do you know any... Oh, I think there's someone coming. I know

there's someone.

What a fool you are.

Carlos Morales, you are on your way to meet.

No.

It was me.

Love you.

My boyfriend.

Your boyfriend?

Yes. He worked just below here at the cafe.

Oh, he is perhaps a waiter.

No. He worked in the bar.

Right. Dry your tears on that.

That's right.

And on the night of the murder, Were you on your way to see him then?

I wanted to, but then I hear someone coming, so

I went back to my room. At what time was this?

Almost ten o 'clock.

Did you happen to see who it was?

No. No.

But from the footsteps, I could tell it was a woman.

How?

Well... Whoever it was, she's wearing very short heels.

Because they sound like... Like that.

Oh, Quarrel.

Hastings, I thought you disappeared. I was just about to call the police.

They weren't here a minute ago.

I looked.

You're quite right. You're very observant, senor. Thank you very much.

Eric told me you might be here.

I'd like to talk to you, if I could.

Yes, well, now that you have found us out... Of course.

Paul Moon, could you sit there just for a second? I just want to ask this young

lady one more question.

What was this famous butler like?

I mean, did you have an opportunity to talk with him?

No, senor. He was very private.

We only saw him when it was time to serve the dinner.

Well, thank you very much. You've been very helpful.

Oh, you better take this.

It's very dark in there.

Thank you very much.

Gracias.

I am sorry. I suppose I'm

getting a bit frantic. But it's about egg and all this murder business. Yes.

She sees it as a sort of lark. An escapade with Charles.

But quite frankly, I'm worried.

About the escapade with Charles or about the murder?

Well, the murder, of course.

You see, Egg is so frightfully impulsive that once she sets her mind on

something, there's no stopping her.

It's like a kink in her personality.

She gets it from her father's side of the family, of course.

I'm afraid I'm partly to blame as well.

I do try to be firm with her, but...

Well, take today.

The first thing I know, she's rushing off to some sanatorium to see that

patient. You know, that Miss... Mrs.

Rushburgo? Yes, yes, that's the one. Oh, and right now she's with that poor Mrs.

Babington, awaiting the results of some sort of autopsy. The exhumation, yes, of

course. Do you know what she said to me as she was rushing off this morning? And

she wasn't teasing either.

She said that she was thinking of coming back here and laying in wait.

Because the killer always returns to the scene of the crime. Now, can you

imagine?

Was she going to take some cheese and wine there?

I'm sorry. I know. I shouldn't have said that. It's a joke.

Señor Cuarón, a telephone call. Oh, thank you.

Cuarón.

I see.

Yes. I see. Tomorrow morning.

All right. We will be there. Yes.

Bye.

And that was Charles.

Our suspicions are confirmed. The Reverend Babington was poisoned with

benzatine.

These are the same glasses that were used during the cocktail party.

Yes, they are.

And you, Miss Millery, were the last person to have handled them.

But, of course, nobody could have tampered with Stephen Babington's drink.

Nobody.

Oh, except Mrs. Babington.

Mrs. Babington? What a terrible thought. You don't seriously think that she's

the killer, do you? No, no, no. I'm thinking aloud.

If only Dr. Strange...

Had been murdered first, then we might be on something.

Why do you say that?

Because at least we would have a motive. Who in his right mind would kill an old

gentleman like Stephen Babington? Whereas a doctor, that's quite

A doctor has many professional secrets.

He also has the capacity of putting people away, of isolating them if he

that they are dangerous to themselves or to other people.

No one can imagine a lot of reasons for killing a famous neurologist.

Wally still wouldn't have been the first victim in the case.

I should very much like to know the reason why.

He didn't drink cocktails.

He couldn't stand them. He couldn't stand cocktails.

Oh, what a case.

What are you writing?

There's nothing to write about, Mr. Houston.

It's so obvious to me that both these crimes are two halves of the same time

order to understand one part one has to understand the other and therefore I

Don't know. I just don't know. Well, what do we do now?

I'm open to any suggestion that was it Why don't we separate into little groups

and ask some questions in a friendly way? Of course, I mean, maybe some of us

will turn up something

Excuse me, but shouldn't that be left to the police?

Oh, come on, Mother. How often do we get a chance to solve a real crime?

Remember, you're still a suspect yourself.

I guess we all are.

You know I could be fired for this. Why? You have done nothing.

Well, that's exactly why I could be sacked.

Listen, Father, if you're so certain that one of the guests is the murderer,

don't we round him up and question him one by one?

I can be certain of only one thing, my friend, and that is that there was no

deliberate murder of Reverend Babington. As for rounding them up, we can do that

at a later date.

Buenos tardes, señorito.

This is Colonel Mateo. I'm Hercule Poirot.

We telephoned you earlier?

Yes, yes.

Mrs.

Frost, please.

Is she ever more lucid?

Very rarely.

She's been diagnosed as catatonic.

That's a form of schizophrenia.

Was it you who telephoned Dr. Strains that night?

Yes, sir.

The next question may seem peculiar to you. Was there anything about what you

said which might be construed as amusing?

Not at all.

Oh, one final question.

Does anybody ever ask after Mrs.

Rushbridger? Apart from her family, I presume?

No, sir.

No one.

Well,

Charles and Madame Hague seem to have lost interest in their care.

They sure have.

They're all plain policemen with the rest of the suspects.

Yes, Colonel, we have stirred the pot.

We shall soon know what comes to the surface.

There she is. Go get her.

Oh, I don't know how I let you talk me into this.

Come on, Mother. All you've got to do is say you're thinking about dating my

wardrobe. Then ask her about Bevington.

Well, what about you? That Freddie Dayton is a bad character.

Oh, come on, Mother. We'll be at the Yacht Club.

Go on.

Well, are you sure you want to go through with this?

If Freddie Dainton is as fond of women and drink as you say he is, no problem.

Just don't let yourself be flattered by the Angela Stafford.

There is a young lady here to see you, sir.

A young lady?

Well, it couldn't be my lovely wife, could it?

Well, what a wonderful surprise.

I hope I'm not intruding.

No, not at all.

What can I do for you?

Charles recommended that I talk to you.

It's about Mother.

Well, not really. Actually, it's about me.

You see, right now, Mother's in your shop, determined to buy me a whole new

wardrobe. And she doesn't realize how... Well, how tight

things are financially.

I've even been thinking about going to work myself.

No.

Yes.

And, well, whose fashion has always been an interest of mine?

Of course.

Of course.

I was just about to order a drink.

This one's cut very simply.

It's rather elegant, don't you think? Yes, it is quite nice.

God knows Egg could use some simplification.

I suppose you've heard the latest about poor Richard Babington.

The autopsy results, I mean. Yes, I did.

You know him from before, didn't you?

No.

Well, I mean, you've met him before. I think he mentioned it that night.

No, I never saw him before in my life. He must be thinking of someone else.

I'm very grateful to him and poor Dr. Strange, though.

Really? Why?

Well, as long as the case remains unsolved, there's just half the chance I

murdered them myself.

So now I find all sorts of dreadful women coming into order, closed from me,

just for the sensation.

Silly, isn't it?

Reverence is one thing.

Nobody murders reverence.

A doctor, it's a different story.

Yeah, I guess it would be. Got too much power, if you ask me.

Like a man up into hell.

Call it, tell you a cure.

I'm not about to take that damn cure. I don't care what my wife says.

I imagine she can be very insistent.

I would love to know what goes on in that precious sanatorium of his.

But that's what they want.

Dr. Strange and your wife?

And others.

Others are watching me too, like that rabbit -faced woman.

When she writes the plays.

Wanted to tell me what she was doing in my room the night of... The night of the

murder? Found her poking around.

Looks more like a weasel.

Did you tell the police?

The police?

That's all I need.

Did you tell anybody?

What is it? What's wrong?

Somebody put you up to this, didn't they?

No. Was it my lovely wife?

No, I just wanted to talk to you myself. How poor you are. Yes.

Well, you're good.

You're very good.

Studied with a master, didn't you? Charles Cartwright. Man of a thousand

Do you mean to say that you actually drew up a list with our names on it?

Charles, you have gotten carried away again.

This is important to me.

Wally was our friend.

Isn't there anything you can tell me that maybe you noticed?

Not that I haven't already told the police.

What about this Carlos character?

I don't know. I hardly noticed him. I mean, he just sort of blends into the

wall, if you know what I mean.

Oh, that other guy, that Montoya. Now, he made an unexpected entrance.

A new method of gate crashing, you could call it.

Excuse me, ma 'am. You have another visitor.

Ah, Mrs. Cranston. Good afternoon, my dear.

Charles? Charles.

Janet and I are putting on one of her plays, Two -Way Traffic. You remember

Yes, I do. We're putting it on for all the bigwigs of the conflict, hippie lots

of fun. Excellent.

I hope I'm not interrupting anything.

Oh, don't be. Does it look like it?

Charles is here in the role of a detective.

This way, Charles can kill two birds with one stone.

That's a rather unfortunate choice of words, isn't it?

Would you like some coffee? Why don't you pour yourself?

Sure.

We were just talking about that dreadful night at Uncle Steve's.

Maybe you noticed something.

About what?

About the murder.

I'm afraid not.

Oh, don't be so secretive, Jan.

I know what she's going to do. She's going to expose all of us in a book

the case.

Well, are there any revelations of any kind that we should see?

Forgive me, forgive me. I guess you didn't like the party.

Now, don't be funny, Charles.

We're all edgy about this.

It could have happened anyway. You all right? Yes, I'm fine. I, for one, think

that it's time that we got everything out into the open.

I mean, we should all get back together again, including that Hercule Poirot.

He apparently had the same idea. I just spoke with him. And?

Well, he saw the ad for the play and decided to have a little party for us at

his hotel this afternoon.

Everyone's invited, he said.

I wish to toast Madame Stafford and Miss Chase, who have collaborated in a

wonderful play, which I'm sure will be an enormous success, and to which we

flock in our droves.

The play. The play.

Why

don't you drink?

Look, we have drunk and we are not dead, are we?

There is nothing in here except some bubbles and the juice of the fruit.

That's all.

I guarantee that.

You have the word of Hercule Poirot.

That's good enough for me.

Charles, I could trust you. I knew that.

Thank you very much.

So, the play?

Have you noticed how champagne dissolves all tension?

You can't really blame us, Monsieur Poirot. Not after the last two parties.

Yes. And now that we're all here, what's the real reason for this one?

Come on, Mr. Poirot.

who killed Charles Cartwright. But you know, Miss Haig, there's a little trick

learned in the Far East.

To kill people and to bring them straight back to life again.

Charles, that was a wonderful performance.

Stand up now and take the applause.

Oh, you monster.

Unforgivable. Well, I don't think it was that bad. No, no, no.

Don't blame him. It was my fault.

I simply had to go through with this demonstration in order to prove one

which I did.

And that is that the human eye, in this case there are ten of us, twenty human

eyes, cannot look at two different things at the same time.

What does that mean?

Well, let us say that...

There had been poison in Charles' glass.

When the police came to investigate the glass, would they find the poison in it?

No, they would not, because that is not the glass that was in Charles' hand.

This one is.

And while you are all rushing towards Charles, worried about him, I had time

switch glasses without anybody noticing.

Which proves it could be done. It is exactly what the murderer did on two

occasions. The first time in the cow's nest, and the second time, of course, in

El Castillo.

Then you know who the murderer is.

No, not quite. But I do know that that murderer may strike again at any minute.

So that I beg all of you, if you have any knowledge about either of the two

murders in question...

which you have not yet told me, please to come forward without delay.

I beg this of you, and I am being utterly serious.

as quickly as possible. Stop.

I have important information about the death of Dr.

Strange.

Signed, Margaret Rushbridge.

Margaret? M.

I'm worried about M. That's what Wally said in his diary.

Yes, yes, you're quite right.

Charles, I think you ought to go there and see her.

Tell Colonel Mateo about this and when you have done that.

Go with Charles, if you will, to the sanatorium, Hastings. Thank you very

And what about you?

Me? No, I'm afraid I'm not going anywhere. Things are now of such

that my duty is to stay here.

We've got to talk to you, Mr. Poirot.

Ricardo's got a confession to make.

A confession?

Please come in.

Now, what is the nature of this confession?

It's not what you think, Monsieur Poirot.

I'm not the killer.

But, well, Egg has convinced me to come forward with some other things.

Oh, I think Mademoiselle Egg is quite right.

But why should I think that you are the killer?

Because of the way he turned up at El Castillo.

But the truth is, Dr. Strange asked him to do just that.

Yes, he wrote that I should fake the accident and then come up to El

He said he couldn't put the reasons in writing, but that he would explain to me

later. And, of course, he did not explain to you later. Well, he never had

chance. He never had the chance. Have you got a copy of that letter? No.

He wrote that I should destroy it.

Oh, he wrote that you should. There's more. Go on.

Well, right after I was questioned by Colonel Mateo, that was around 10 o

'clock. Yes.

I went to pick up my coat.

Miss Crisp was there.

She was looking for a shawl or something like that. Yes.

Anyway, I was putting on my jacket.

When something fell out of it.

Well, what fell out of it? I didn't actually see it fall, you understand.

What was it?

She picked it up and handed it back to me.

It was the newspaper cutting about benzotein and what a deadly poison it

must have planted that clipping on Ricardo.

Don't you remember what Freddy Davis said? How he caught her sneaking around

house that night?

I'll bet she's the murderer. But what motive would she have for killing the

Reverend Babington?

She didn't even know him before the party. She didn't know Dr. Strange

No. Maybe she's psychotic. A man -hater.

Clever people are often crazy, aren't they? Oh, dear egg.

Excuse me.

Bravo.

Not quite so fast, Hastings.

What?

Yes, no.

An old... Yeah, I see.

I understand.

Yes, I understand.

I'll see you later. Thank you very much, Hastings.

Bye.

Mrs.

Rushbridger has been killed.

No. Yes.

Early this morning, she received through the mail a box of chocolates, liqueur

filled, benzatine.

Did she have a chance to say anything?

No.

I think it is probably because she said nothing that she was murdered.

What do you mean?

I don't understand.

Neither do I. What about the telegram?

Oh, the telegram was delivered, according to Hastings, by a small boy.

who received it from an old groundsman at the sanatorium, who saw it drop from

window enclosed in a 500 -peso note, and the small boy was apparently allowed to

keep the change on condition he delivered the telegram.

I'm afraid I still don't understand. What's wrong with that?

play happy families while you're trying to solve the case, Mr. Poirot?

Oh, you know, it's a hangover from my childhood when I was very young.

I started doing this in order to teach myself concentration, and I've never

stopped the habit.

So what does Mr. Mug have to say about that? Mr. Mug, the milkman, ding, ding.

Oh, I remember. Charles Edward W.

Muggins was his real name before he became an actor.

Charles' real name was Muggins.

Really?

Probably looked like this, too.

So, does he have any ideas?

Not that I know of, anyway.

Word of that Lebo's quarrel.

Do you mind? I'm sorry to be so antisocial, but I really must

rarely before.

Do you think it'll

be... Safe to go to the play tomorrow night.

What? Two -way traffic. We've all been invited to the dress rehearsal.

Where have you been invited?

The dress rehearsal.

The dress rehearsal?

What's wrong?

Have I been blind?

The dress rehearsal.

Miss Milray, good afternoon. I'm sorry, Charles. Mr.

Cartwright isn't here. I know, but they will be long presently.

They? Yes, all of them, including the police.

Mrs. Rushbridger has been murdered this afternoon. I just heard from Charles and

from Hastings.

How? How was she killed?

She was poisoned, mademoiselle, with benzatine.

I wonder if you could make a large pot of... Gee, I have a feeling these

proceedings may last a little time.

Yes.

You may not do that, mademoiselle, but what you are seeking to destroy is

evident.

To reconstruct a crime, to make sense of it for the layman, the judiciary, and

even under certain circumstances, believe it or not, for the criminal

is the solemn duty of the detective.

Therefore, he must construct his case like a house of cards.

making absolutely sure that it will resist every attempt to knock it down.

So, my friends, mes amis, let us begin from the beginning with the murder of

Reverend Babington.

You are right, Mademoiselle Haig, and I was wrong for once.

Both you and Charles Cartwright believed that the Reverend Babington had been

murdered. I did not think it was possible to impose on a victim a glass,

particular glass on a tray full of identical glasses.

Isn't all this rather obvious, Mr. Farrow? Well, it may be to you, sir,

not to me.

The second crime was announced to me by Charles Cartwright himself in Los

Angeles, and I immediately assumed that it was two parts of the same

crime.

But who could possibly, in light of this... have been there to murder the

Reverend Babington.

Well, there was Miss Millray.

The other was Charles Cartwright.

But neither of these two were at the second murder. At the second murder, the

main suspect was Carlos Morales, the butler, who seems to have disappeared

thin air.

Although there was one guest who attracted...

More than usual attention to himself, Senor Montoya.

When we were presented to one another by Miss Haig, she referred to you as a

communist. She said this laughing.

I smiled when I heard it until I noticed a look of overt hostility between

you and the Reverend Babington.

We had our ups and downs, Monsieur Perrault. It was mainly about Central

America.

Nothing serious, though. Only arguments.

In any case, I'm not actually a communist. My regard for personal

such that I don't care what you are, so long as it doesn't culminate in murder.

However, your performance at the second party was most unusual, too. You arrived

in a disheveled condition, saying you'd had an accident nearby.

And then you revealed that this whole scenario was the idea of none other than

Dr. Strange.

In written instructions to you, when asked to produce them, you said they

destroyed. And you did not convince either by the newspaper clipping which

from your pocket, the subject of which was, of course, Ben Zertine.

Somebody must have planted it on him. We already told you that.

Yes, very well, Mademoiselle Hagrid. By whom?

Perhaps Miss Crisp can cast some light on this, or is it all too obvious?

Actually, I rather agree with you, Mademoiselle Egg.

Everything that Montoya has said and done has been too convenient to be

convincing.

I think that the more extreme and far -fetched his story is, the more I tend

believe him.

You see, a really clever criminal would realize that only someone who was

present at both murders would be suspect.

And now... Who was not present at the second murder?

Well, there was, of course, Miss Millray, there was Mrs. Babington, there

was Charles, and there was last but not least, I said. Could anybody have given

the impression that they were not there while being there?

This is where the mysterious butler, Mr. Morales, comes in.

He behaved in a very strange way, arriving only minutes before the meal

order to serve it. The room was dimly lit by candlelight.

The butler walked with a pronounced stoop, probably due to some arthritic

conditions.

And if Rosa, the parlor maid, was intrigued by the butler, she was even

when he answered the phone and brought a message to Dr. Strange. There was

nothing at all amusing about this message. It came from the nurse.

who was attending Mrs.

Ospreyter in the sanatorium.

Nothing amusing, and yet Dr. Strange chuckled and kidded with the butler.

a steady fellow, he said, and a first -class butler. It was almost as though

they shared a private joke.

There was, in fact, a private joke between them. The nature of that private

joke, well, when the time came for the butler to disappear, it was not terribly

difficult. For one reason, he did not exist.

And that was the nature of the surprise which Doctor Strange had promised

Mademoiselle Haig.

At a given moment, the butler was to straighten his back, take off his

and there in all his glory was to stand... Charles Cartwright?

The man of a thousand faces.

Well, thank you very much, but you're wrong.

I don't do that kind of work anymore. I've retired.

I couldn't fool anybody.

You think you're fooling me now?

I don't know and I don't care, Perot.

How can you pretend to know everything that's happened when you weren't even

there? Even a reputable critic has been known to leave after the first act. It's

never prevented him from writing a review.

But there is a small difference.

I returned for the third act to see if my review was watertight.

May I shoot some holes in it?

Yes.

What would have happened had Carlos Morales the disguise?

been discovered earlier.

Oh, well, then you would have had your usual round of applause. You're quite

used to that, and general laughter.

And you would have been invited to join the dinner party as a guest.

Charles, your pride in your work is enough to prevent you allowing that

to be penetrated.

Dr. Strange knew this, and he chuckled in advance as he imagined the general

gasp of surprise.

Unfortunately, his gasp of surprise came first when he took a lethal dose of

Benzotin.

After that, everything was as easy as it had been during the death of the

Reverend Babington. You switched the glasses in the manner that I

during my cocktail party.

Then you were interviewed briefly by Colonel Mateo. You packed your bags and

disappeared forever through the secret passage in the library.

And Dr. Stranger's letter to Ricardo?

Yeah, what about that, Perrault?

Did Carlos Morales write that note, too?

I'm extremely clever, as you know, but I'm not a clairvoyant. I have no idea

you addressed when you wrote that, nor indeed when you planted that newspaper

article in the pocket of Señor Montoya, which was discovered, of course, by Miss

Crisp, a woman of insatiable curiosity with a particular fondness

for murder.

Rosa Sanchez, the parlor maid, was leaving the servants' quarters

when she heard a noise and was forced to hide.

This noise turned out to be Miss Crisp poking about in the library. Both Mr.

Dayton and Senor Montoya claimed that she was behaving in a suspicious manner,

obedient, no doubt, to the mongoose instinct for finding out.

Let us not be too hard on Miss Crisp. She was the only one, Charles, out of

of us, to really alarm you, because she was the only one to really notice that

butler. And there was something about him which was strangely familiar. The

voice, she didn't know what it was. But things really came to a head a little

later when you visited Angela Stafford's apartment.

You were not there.

to help in solving the murders. That would be too much to ask.

You were merely trying to find out if any suspicions had been aroused about

yourself. Then something happened which in itself was insignificant, but it

became crucial.

You offered our friend Miss Crisp a cup of coffee.

At that moment she noticed on your wrist a scar.

Which was the same scar she had already noticed on the wrist of Carlos Morales.

You see, Charles, there are no disguises which are completely impenetrable. She

confided this in me after your magnificent performance during my

She was terrified that she might be the next victim.

I want my day in court.

As defense attorney?

I never played a defense attorney.

May I? May the prosecution have one more moment of your time.

You see, Charles, there were three murders.

Not two.

Three?

They all can't be me.

Mrs. Rushbridge?

Charles played yet another one of his galaxy of wonderful... characters. An

groundskeeper at the sanatorium. He even tipped a small boy to take a message to

the telegraph office.

You see, with that instinct which made of him a great actor, he felt curiously

that this net was closing around him.

He even sent Mrs. Rushbridger a gift of liqueur -filled chocolates.

The liqueur in question being, of course,

Benzotine. The idea was that Mrs. Rutschberger had been killed because she

too much.

In point of fact, the poor darling, she knew nothing at all, was incapable of

knowing anything.

Do you rest your case? My case rests.

Thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, your honor.

I'd like Monsieur Hercule Perrault to take this thing.

Is that your famous limp?

What do you know about my limp? Huh?

Everybody knows about your limp. It's world famous.

Oh.

Monsieur Perrault, what is the motive for the crimes in question?

Yes, you had to kill a Dr. Strange because he'd been looking after you for

very long time. The official reason given for your premature retirement from

entertainment business was a certain nervous fragility when overworked. This

very far from the truth.

The truth is that there were paranoid and psychotic elements in your makeup.

which could at any moment lead you to unreasonable or even violent behavior.

Dr. Strange knew this.

He also knew the secret about the scar on your wrist. It was due to an attempt

at suicide.

I'm worried about M, he wrote.

I don't like it.

No, no. M.

Margaret.

Matteo.

Montoya. Milray, do I have to remind you that my name is Charles

Cartwright? A name given you by a film studio who deemed that Edward W.

Muggins was inconsistent with a romantic lead.

And we must be consistent in everything, mustn't we?

I'm famous for being consistent.

What is the reason for Babington's death to be consistent in logic?

That is a good question. It is not consistent in the everyday sense of the

but in the sense of the theatre, it would be called, I think, a dress

In fact, Babington happened to die, but it could have been anyone.

There was no motive, you understand, apart from a purely technical one. You

wanted to see if the poison worked, if it was possible to change the glasses.

It was possible.

Therefore, it was a wonderful dress rehearsal for the real premiere, which

the necessary death of Doctor Strange. I say necessary, because, Charles, he was

the only person that could put you away.

This is much worse! We will see how monstrous it is. I will ask Miss

Excuse me.

Now, you see, Charles, Miss Millray, when she found...

that orchid spray in the gardener's hut, she suspected that you were the

murderer. And when you gave that wonderful performance at my party,

there's one face I wanted to see at the very moment of your death.

It was that of Miss Millery.

For a moment, she was profoundly shocked and then gave way to the deeper

despair.

She was torn, you see, between her love for you and her horror of what

you had done.

I followed her to the garden shed.

She tried to destroy the evidence. I'm afraid, Charles, she did not succeed.

That evidence is now with the police, as well as your passport, which is clearly

marked the time you returned here in order to kill Dr. Strange. And you

to Los Angeles by the very next plane.

in order to break the news to me in a voice of anguish.

Who are these people?

What are you doing in my house?

Get out of here!

Why do you let these people arrive here? Why are you all staring at me? It's a

wrong performance.

This is the moment of true dignity.

It's a moment to show us what's wrong. Me like

Sidney Carton in the only way.

Smiling. His way.

Yes,

if you wish.

Except that here there's no scaffold.

There's just peace of mind, Charles.

And Charles, an infinity of holes to play.

It's a pity you didn't see me as a groundskeeper.

I had the audience of one small boy.

I used my little boy.

Well, after the HP, I'll be out in a year.

I'm going to give the greatest performance of my life in that

Level -headed, rational, and above all.

Do you think I'm going to struggle? Well, you're wrong.

You can put away your straitjackets.

You can put away your hypodermic needles.

You're not going to need any of them.

I'm going to tell you one thing, senors. I may be charming, debonair, handsome.

I may even at times be dangerous.

But I am not.

I repeat, not crazy.

I've been a fool, haven't I? No, mademoiselle, merely young.

And youth is often mesmerized by age, as age is mesmerized by youth.

Don't you think so, comrade Montoya?

Please, Monsieur Perrault, I'm not even a socialist, really.

Who cares what you are?

I'm really sorry about all of this, Ricardo.

So am I.

I must congratulate you, Monsieur Poirot.

That was a brilliant summation in there.

Quite a display.

I should think it would make a wonderful conclusion to your book.

My book? Oh, I'd forgotten all about my book.

Why not our book?

I beg your pardon?

You know, modern crime is so busy. There's a body falling out of a cupboard

minute, another rising from the lake. You never know where you are. I have no

time.

Now, if I had a collaborator, someone with a mongoose instinct, what do you

think of that?

I think it's a grand idea.

Are you serious?

I'm absolutely serious.

Good Lord, Poirot.

What is the matter now?

It just occurred to me. What?

When that poison cocktail was handed round. Yes.

It could have been me.

I thought of an even worse thought. What was that?

It could have been me.