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TV: ..getting out of the team bus.

Looking over the England squad...

I want a bit of positivity from you
this time.

Sixpence, England score first.

(BUZZ OF CHATTER)

(GIRLS SINGING)

(LAUGHTER)

♪ Kyrie Eleison

(Thunder rumbles)

(Whiplash, man choking)

(Bell rings)

Thank you. Closing time.

Come on. Please make your way
towards the exit.

WOMAN: Hurry up, girls.

All right, Sophie.

Up a bit.(Static interference on
TV)

Up a bit more.

Left a bit.

Oh, there, there! That's perfect,
keep it like that.

If you think I'm standing like this
for the game, you've another thing
coming.

Don't be like that. I'd ask your mum
but she's down the shop.

(Door bell rings)

Aw, do...

Sam, get over there, will you?

Saturday afternoon? Someone's keen.

Miss Thursday. I was looking for your
father.

I thought you were a bit early for a
date.

Good er... match?

0-0 so far.

The ref's sent off Rattin, mind.

Has he?

The Argentine skipper.

Yeah.

Poor old Rattin.

When it comes to talking
football with you, I

might as well show a dog
the three-card trick.

Victim is Adrian Weiss, sir.

Aged 69.

Address in North Oxford.

Body was found by the museum
attendant, Terence Black,

post-grad at Wolsey College, working
here for the summer.

He was going round making sure
nobody had missed the closing bell.

Weapon's over there, taken from one
of the display cabinets.

It's a katar.

An Indian dagger.

Dr DeBryn, what have we got?

Blood - lots of it.

A deep single slash across the
throat,

right to left, trachea sliced
through.

Carotid artery severed,

rapid exsanguination,

leading to unconsciousness,
cardio-vascular collapse

and death within a matter of
minutes.

No one saw or heard anything?

No, sir. Very few visitors, what
with the football on telly.

And half the museum's under sheets
while they recatalogue.

But we do have a possible motive.

Robbery.

His wallet's been cleaned out.

The guv'nor and me will take his
house.

You make a start with any entries in
the visitors' book.

Odd choice of weapon, don't you
think?

A katar's a stabbing blade rather
than slashing.

Designed to punch through armour.

It seems to have done the job.

You didn't notice anyone unusual?

I had half an ear on the wireless.

The football.

Mr Weiss wasn't a regular visitor,
then?

I don't know.

Sorry, I only started at the
beginning of the long vac.

You're a post-grad, is that right?

Yes, Economics at Wolsey.

One's only allowed to take eight
hours a week paid work in term time.

A lengthy engagement like this is
something of a godsend,

a chance to replenish the coffers.

Something at which the Cardinal
himself proved rather adept.

Wolsey.

Oh, yes. Yes, indeed.

Not bad for a butcher's son.

Who's this? "Miss Danby and party"?

Oh, er...

A school visit.

But we're not in term time.

Summer boarders.

Blythe Mount School for Girls at
Slepe.

It's a village, S-L-E-P-E.

Out beyond Carterton.
(Bell rings)

Afternoon, miss.

Detective Inspector Thursday.

Would I be right in thinking that a
Mr Adrian Weiss lives at this address?

Yes, my uncle. Why?

Might I come in for a few minutes,
miss?

Thanks for the lift.

Indian country, matey. If County
police find a City boy like you
poking around,

they'll have your for breakfast.

I've er... been meaning to ask.

I've got this date.

The thing is...

I was wondering if you'd make up a
four.

She's bringing a friend.
Good-looker, apparently.

Says she doesn't trust herself with
me on her own. I'd do the same for
you.

Let me know when you want picking
up.

All right.

Can you think of anyone who bore him
any ill-will?

What was his line, miss?

Erm...

Uncle Adrian was called to the Bar in
the '30s,

but after the war, he was appointed
Rouge Dragon pursuivant.

A junior officer at the College of
Arms.

The heraldic authority.

Your uncle was retired, though?

Four years ago.

But he retained a great interest in
his subject.

It was...

..his life.

These are young impressionable
girls.

And I'd rather their minds weren't
filled with murder and bloodshed.

Actually, Miss Symes, I'm afraid I
must insist.

One or more girls may have seen
something pertinent to our
inquiries.

They're summer boarders, am I right?

Indeed.

These are girls who, for one reason
or another, are unable to spend the
holiday at home.

Must be hard for them. I was a summer
girl myself.

One gets used to it.

Petra. Petra Briers, Head Girl.

Are you really a policeman?

Yes.

I'd just like to ask you a few
questions,

if you remember anything about your
visit to the museum.

Did anything strike you as odd?

Why? What's this all about?

Has someone been killed?

Is it a murder?

I was with Miss Danby most of the
time.

Were there any other visitors you
noticed?

I don't really care for museums.

I mean, they're all right for
teacher's pets and swots like Bunty
Glossop.

But I'd far sooner be down a club.

Do you frequent many clubs?

All the time, in London.

Eel Pie, Crawdaddy, The Marquee...

Do you like the Stones?

It was boring.

We certainly didn't see anything
interesting. Just a lot of old
museum stuff.

It broke the day, I suppose.

There was an old couple.

She was in a wheelchair and he wore
glasses,

with one lens blacked out.

And a man with a gold watch in a
hurry.

You notice things.

I try not to. Why?

People think you're showing off?

It's not showing off, is it?

What I need to know, Miss
Thengardi...

I didn't do anything.

No one's suggesting that you did.

Who's that?

That's Billy Karswell, the
groundsman's son.

He has a somewhat enlivening effect
on some of the older girls.

Shelly Thengardi.

She seems a bit...

Prickly?

Shelly only joined us in the spring.

She's been expelled from half a
dozen places for fighting and
general insolence.

But there's no real harm in her,
she's just...

a difficult age.

And her surname, is that... Indian?

Yes, Mahratta blood in there
somewhere.

The other girls tease her for it so
she hits back.

And yourself, Miss Danby, how long
have you been at the school?

My second summer. Before that, I was
a year at St Enid's.

And you're sure you saw nothing
untoward at the museum?

No, as I said, the girls held all of
my attention throughout.

Macintoshes in July.

The joys of an English summer, such
as it is.

As well to be prepared, I suppose.
It looks as if it may rain again.

It may if it chooses, with no
objections.

Contrariwise.

Tweedle-dee?

Bunty's rather taken with Through
The Looking Glass at the moment.

All right, off you go. Yes, miss.

Thank you very much for your time,
Miss Danby.

This is a very happy school.

I'm sure it is.

You shouldn't have come all this way.
I called for a patrol.

I fancied the run out. Big old
place.

Anything doing?

Nothing much. You?

Sergent Jakes put the word out via
the usual channels, anyone suddenly
flush.

Still think it was a robbery?

Till something convinces me
otherwise, it's all we've got.

Anyone else unusual in the visitors'
book?

Mr and Mrs Gardiner from Kingsport,
Massachusetts, an American couple.

They're staying at the...

Morse, are you all right? Yes, er...

Yeah.

That was the police up at the
school, Miss Danby said.

What'd they want, then?

There's been a murder in town.

This museum the girls went to.

That right?

Well, you mind you keep out of their
way.

I ain't done nothing.
You know what I'm talking about.

That sort's never been nothing but
trouble for our sort.

Go and wash your hands for tea.

(Chatter and laughter)

I thought he was rather dishy.

Petra? What, didn't you?

He could take down my particulars
any time.

Oh, Detective Constable Morse,

what big blue eyes you have!

(Laughter)

Girls, Danby's coming up.

(Music off)

Lights out in 15 minutes.

I'm naming no names, Philippa
Collins-Davidson,

but you really oughtn't smoke, it's
an awful fire hazard in an old place
like this.

Yes, miss.

I know this has been a difficult
day, but try not to think about it.

Miss Danby?

Yes, Bunty?

What if we see it again, miss?

You know as well as I do, there's no
such thing.

Stop trying to be the centre of
attention.That's enough.

Now then, snuggle down, we'll have
no more talk of this.

Good night, Miss Danby.Good night.

♪ DVORAK: Songs My Mother Taught Me

Katar.

(Piano plays)

(Music intensifies)

(Gasps)

(Clock ticking)

(Thunder rumbles)

MRS GARDINER: Where in the museum
was this?

A gallery on the first floor.

No!

I'm afraid I don't do stairs so
good.

Terrible thing to happen.

You're here on holiday, Mr Gardiner?

Our son, Lowell, he was stationed
here with the Air Force in the war.

We always wanted to see England.

Morse?

If you have a moment.

Would you excuse me, Miss Weiss?

This Indian dagger.

Having examined it now at some
length,

I'm of a mind it's unlikely to have
been the murder weapon.

Its edges simply aren't sharp enough
to inflict that kind of wound, not
at one sweep.

What would be?

A straight razor, perhaps, one or
two scalpels I can think of.

If the blade was sharp enough, even
a kitchen knife would do.

Bunty was found frozen half to death
on the music room floor.

I heard Miss Danby tell Miss Symes.

What was she doing, wandering about
in the dark?

You know what. Oh, rubbish.

If she says that, she's just a
little liar.

You gave poor Miss Danby a dreadful
fright, you know.

What were you doing?

Erm... I... I don't remember, miss.

Are you sure of that?

I was a girl at Blythe, you know.

A long time ago.

And girls can make up rather silly
stories, don't you think?

There's been some mention made of a
fob watch, gold.

Your uncle was seen with it at the
museum, but it wasn't amongst his
effects.

It was a present from the college on
his retirement.

Would someone really have...

..for something of so little value?

It's a possibility.

He was a herald, I understand? It was
his great passion.

Up until the end, he still undertook
private work, if the case held
sufficient interest.

Such as?

People wanting a family crest, or a
coat of arms to hang over the
fireplace.

Nothing too taxing, just enough to
let him feel he was still keeping
his hand in.

Did he have an interest in curios -
antique weaponry, say?

Not that he ever mentioned to me.

According to our records, the katar
was part of a large bequest

made by the Blaise-Hamilton family
in 1879.

The provenance suggests it was left
to them by a family friend killed at
Cawnpore.

Any idea who they were...

the Blaise-Hamiltons?

Something to do with tea, I believe,
plantations in India.

Made a small fortune.

THURSDAY: Tea planters?

Apparently. Why?

Something else.

My old guv'nor down at Mile End, he
used to collect back numbers of
Illustrated Police News.

There was nothing much to do on
lates,

so I'd have a scrive through them.

Blaise-Hamilton.

The sort of name that sticks.

In what regard?

Well, it's years back, so don't hold
me to it.

But I've got a feeling it was
something out this way...

..murder.

Sorry, I've had a good gander but
there's nothing in the case archive.

Tried the County? Yeah, same. I'm
onto the Yard now.

The Yard? What, Scotland Yard?

Yes.

Blaise-Hamilton.

Yes, I'll hold.

So, you're through, then.

England, 1-0. Hurst in the 78th.

Oh.

You've got them in the sweep,
haven't you? I believe so.

Don't get your hopes up, they've got
Portugal in the semis.

Eusebio banged in four yesterday.

Any word on Weiss's missing watch?

Handful of possibles. I'm meeting
with a couple of my snouts this
evening.

You still on for what we talked
about Saturday? Mo's got us down for
the pictures.

I think we've foundsomething. You
do?

What date is on the file?

And when was this?

July... That shouldn't be...

..1866.

I've been at the Mail a while,
Morse, but that's before even my
time.

This pre-dates the Mail. You'll need
to look in Jackson's Oxford Journal.

Will I? Mm-hm.

You run me to earth here on a Sunday
to ask me about a 100-year-old case.

There's nothing in the City archive,
nor County, I checked.

All the Yard could come up with was
an empty file and that date.

There may be a connection with
yesterday's murder at the museum.

I'll see what I can do. When...

..might that be?

What's so important?

Morse?

I can't quite put my finger on it.

Instinct.

But I've an overwhelming feeling
of...

What?

..dread.

Hello.

Oh.

Just half a loaf and some cheese.

I'm not going to be here, so...

You shouldn't have.

Waste not, want not.

Well, see you. Yeah. Thank you.

"According to witnesses, the
victim's body was found in a pool of
blood."

Eurgh. Adrian Weiss."Veiss." It's
pronounced "Veiss".

You'd know, I suppose.

Oh, look, the kraken awakes!

Fee-fi-fo-fum, here comes Edwina and
the beanstalk.

Please don't.Or what?

Are you going to cry? Some of us are
a little old for things that go bump
in the night.

You're perfectly horrid.

Why are you sticking up for her,
piggywig?

Soon as Princess Maudie gets back,
Bunty will drop you like a cup of
cold poison.

The only poison here is you.

If you don't like it, go back to
Calcutta.

Gin fizz, Fish-nor.

Jaldi, jaldi!

(Laughs)

♪ BARTOK: Bluebeard's Castle

"Shrive Hill House.

"On Friday 27th July,

a gruesome discovery of the dreadful
murder at Shrive Hill House,

at Slepe in the county of Oxon was
made.

Detective Inspector
Langley, famed for his part

in the investigation of
the Bermondsey Horror,

arrived from Scotland Yard to guide
the inquiry.

The five victims - three children,
the youngest but a babe in arms,

together with their nursemaid and
governess,

were discovered on the 27th inst. at
about six in the evening, by Samuel
Blaise-Hamilton.

The Blaise-Hamilton's eldest daughter
Charlotte, aged 11, survived the
bloodletting,

though thus far she's been able to
shed no light on the identity of the
person

or persons who visited such terrible
violence upon her siblings,

and the two faithful family
servants."

(Whispers) Petra!

Petra!

Petra!(Groggily) What?

What is it? What do you want?
Bunty's gone.

Bunty's gone again.

(Piano playing)

I'm going to fetch Miss Symes.

(Screams)

You were right about the
Blaise-Hamilton murders.

Five murders, in fact, including
three children.

Unsolved, so far as I can make out.

The thing is, it's the same place,
sir.

What is?

Blythe Mount and Shrive Hill House,

the Blaise-Hamiltons' home and this
school for girls.

There's more to this than the theft
of a wallet, sir.

Look.

"Save me." From what?

I don't know.

I found it in my coat pocket last
night after I left the school.

One of the girls must have slipped it
in there.

Say it wasn't a robbery, say there
is more to it.

Any motive for Adrian Weiss's murder
lies in the here and now.

His niece has put me in touch with
the College of Arms in London.

Maybe one of his ex-colleagues can
throw some light.

I'd be more inclined to look towards
some personal slight or professional
jealousy at work.

Look lively.

Welcome to the College of Arms.

Detective Inspector...? Thursday.

Cendree Wyvern Pursuivant.

It's a bit of a mouthful, it just
means a kind of herald.

Less formally, it's Robin Bulstrode.

My colleague, DC Morse.

Morse? Mm.

Argent between three pellets, a
battle-axe gules.

The Morse escutcheon, Inspector.

In Deo Non Armis fido. Hardly.

Oh, forgive me. Too long a herald.

Just the mere mention of a surname
and I...

I must admit, your Thursday's got me
foxed.

Please, do.

Regrettably, as I mentioned on the
telephone, Sir Hilary's on holiday.

But I'm not a bad second.

When did you last see him?

Adrian?

About a fortnight ago. He came up to
town for lunch.

How did he seem? In excellent
spirits.

Enjoying his retirement.

Anything on his mind troubling him?

No. No, nothing.

Did he ever talk to you about his
work?

Actually, I do know lately he'd
undertaken a line of enquiry on
behalf of some Americans.

Concerning what, exactly? Their boy.

A tail-end charlie in a B-17.

Bought the farm, as they say. Quite
late in the war.

Died here.

Any event,

in his last letter home, he
announced, quite out of the blue,
that he was getting married.

Appears to have been a case of the
erm...

Doing the right thing?

Just so.

No more than the girl's first name
to go on.

It was just the sort of mystery that
appealed to Adrian.

BRIGHT: Quite a weekend, Thursday.

Yes, sir.Anything in this American
connection?

We'll want to talk to Mr and Mrs
Gardiner again.

According to the Randolph, they're
in Stratford. Should be back this
afternoon.

I see.

There's a possible link to a girls'
school.

A party of eight from there were at
the museum when Mr Weiss was killed,
sir.

There was a weapon left at the scene,
sir,

an antique dagger bequeathed in 1879
by a family called Blaise-Hamilton.

In 1866, three of their
children, together with

a governess were killed
at Shrive Hill House...

Which touches on the school trip in
what regard?

The Blaise-Hamiltons'
home, Shrive Hill House,

is now the Blythe Mount
School for Girls, Slepe.

Slepe, you say?

That's extraordinary.

Just come off the teleprinter not an
hour since, a request from County.

One of the girls at the school
absconded in the night.

Bunty Glossop.

Oh, it's you, is it?

What's this, then, you run out of
crosswords?

DI Church, sir, and his bagman, DS
Bruce.

I was under Mr Church whilst on light
duties at County.

DI Thursday. Fred.

Bit off your beat, ain't you, a pair
of City boys?

Miss Symes tells me you were the
last person to see Bunty Glossop,
right?

No, not exactly.

Edwina woke me and there was music
playing.

But Bunty was already gone from her
bed.

What sort ofmusic?

The piano.

A Chopin nocturne.

So we went to look for her.

You and Edwina. Yes.

You wouldn't happen to know which
nocturne, by any chance?

No.1, I think. B flat minor.

Would anyone in the school be able to
play the piano to such a standard?

Of all the summer girls, only
Shelly, I suppose.

And she was still in bed when we
went looking.

Why play piano in the middle of the
night? Prank?

I don't think so. If it was a prank,
where's Bunty?

She struck me as rather a bright
girl.

Not every 13-year-old can offer an
apt Lewis Carroll quote from memory.

Yes, perhaps our brightest.

Would you recognise her handwriting?

What I want you to do...

is write this down.

As it appears, in capitals.

Say er...20 times?

Er... as quick as they can.

Your boy's not backward in coming
forward.

Morse?

Keen as mustard, smart too.

Queer old place this, ain't it?

Between you and me,

the staff seem as batty as the
pupils.

Different in term time, I expect.

400 girls, 50-odd staff.

Only now... Yeah, Marie Celeste.

I wouldn't spend the summer here.

Just the nine of them, rattling
around like peas in a drum?

Only eight now, of course.

What about her parents?

Her father's overseas with the
Foreign Office, in Kenya.

And her mother?

She died abroad quite suddenly,

not long after Bunty came to Blythe
Mount,

which is why, I imagine, she summers
here.

I've been meaning to ask. Last
Saturday, when the girls were at the
museum, where were you?

Here. I had a motor accident last
week and driving is presently
impossible.

You're familiar with the history of
this place?

Well, every house has its secrets.

Do the girls know what happened here?

Fragments, perhaps.

I mean the Blaise-Hamilton case.

The legend is as old as the school,

handed down from one generation to
the next.

I knew it in my time, and the girls,
no doubt, have learnt it in theirs.

Learned what, exactly?

How Bloody Charlotte walks the halls
in the dead of night,

looking for those girls foolish
enough to wander alone after lights
out.

"Here comes a candle to light you to
bed..."

She's dead.

Don't say that.

You mustn't say that.

(Door opens)

I'm sorry, it isn't Bunty's
handwriting.

And there's no match with the other
girls.

Well, somebody wrote it and slipped
it into my coat pocket, Miss Danby.

Who's this other girl with Bunty?

Her bosom companion, Maud Ashenden.

She went home to her parents at the
end of term.

Might Bunty have struck out for
Maud's, hoping to see her?

The Peloponnese would test even her
abilities. The family's on a sailing
holiday, I believe.

You like her?

Bunty?

Yes.

She's quick, personable.

A prospect for Lady Matilda's if
boys don't get in the way.

Whose bed's this?

Shelly's. Shelly Thengardi.

Is she friends with Bunty?

Shelly's not friends with anyone.

Did Bunty strike you as the sort of
girl that might just run away?

She was unhappy.

Missing Maud, I think, her
protector.

Some of the older girls can rag on
the younger ones.

Who can say?

Young girls don't just disappear
into thin air, Miss Danby.

If she's not here, it's because she
chose not to be, or because somebody
took her.

There's no other explanation.

You can say that, of course you can.

You haven't seen what I have seen.

What were you doing?

It's a part of the school that isn't
used. It's out of bounds, in fact.

It isn't safe, there's dry rot.

Some of the older girls...

I was worried in case they were
using it as a smoking den.

I'm sorry.

I can't, I won't.Miss Danby...

I know what I saw.

It was as real to me then as you are
now.

Maybe you should go downstairs.

Please... don't go up there.

It's all right, really.

(Wings fluttering)

(Door creaks)

(Door creaks)

(Wings fluttering)

I felt it at first.

A...presence.

And I knew I was not alone.

I turned around...

(Music box plays nocturne)

I didn't want to, but I knew I had
to.

And that's when I saw it.

What did you see?

(Floorboards creaking)

Aargh!

(Groans)

Are you all right?

Let's get you out of here.

It was an easy mistake to make.

You caught a reflection of the
painting in the mirror.

It's not what I saw.A spook?

A child.

Could it have been Bunty Glossop?
No, sir, she was too small for Bunty.

Are you sure?

It was dark, I didn't see her face.

Maybe she didn't have one.

If Morse says he saw a child, you
can take him at his word.

Yeah, well...

whatever he saw, it's not here now.

Hospital?

No, it's just cuts and scrapes. I'll
be glad of a change, though.

I'll drop you home, then.

The "Save me" note.

Miss Danby says it's not Bunty
Glossop's writing,

but I'm convinced she stuck it in my
coat pocket.

And I just found this in her dorm
room.

Plighted Cunning.An account of the
Blaise-Hamilton murders.

You remember the head girl, Petra,
said she woke to the sound of a
Chopin nocturne

playing in the piano room?

According to this, when the police
arrived in 1866,

the same nocturne was playing on a
music box.

Someone playing silly buggers?

I think someone's trying to recreate
the...

..ritual, if you like, of those past
murders here in the present.

But why? I don't know.

But Weiss's murder and the
disappearance of Bunty Glossop are
connected, I'm sure of it.

Should I ask?

Mind if I come in?

That'll need darning.

Burning, more like. You're being paid
too much.

Hardly.

Let me.

This is going to sting a bit.

I've been meaning to say thank you,

for the meals and whatnot.

I told you.

You need feeding up.

To that end, would you...

want to have dinner with me?

Sure.

Tomorrow?

This evening? Thank you, yes. I'll
see you then, Mr Fitzowen.

OK, thank you.

Thank you.

(Exhales)

Aye-aye, as I live and breathe.

If it isn't World Cup Willie.

So what's it all about, then?

I got a mate over at County who says
you saw something today.

A girl... in Victorian clothes.

Was this before or after you fell on
your nut?

Meanwhile, back in the world of real
policing, I got a lead on Weiss's
gold watch.

Do you want to go halves on a
stakeout?

Tonight? Oh, I can't.

Just thought you might want to get
your name on the charge sheet.

When they're giving out medals,
don't say I didn't ask.

(Knock at door) Sir?

Remember that book I found on the
Blaise-Hamilton murders?

I spoke to the author. It turns out
Weiss had been in contact shortly
before his death.

I think we should hear what he's got
to say. Yeah.

After we've spoken to the Gardiners,
of course.

MRS GARDINER: That was the man you
were talking about?

We'd no idea! To us, he was just a
name.

A Mr Weiss of Select Genealogical
Services Ltd, Oxford, England.

We were due to meet him at the end
of the week.

May I ask why you took so long to
begin your search for a possible
grandchild?

When we were notified our boy had
died,

we took it hard.

Lowell didn't come till late.

He was our only.

But so far as we knew, the marriage
he wrote of never took place.

He said he had some other big news,
but...

..that would have to wait for his
next letter.

Only that letter never came.

No.

I guess...

the older we got...

..we just wanted to find out if
there was a piece of our boy

still walking and talking somewhere
on God's good earth.

But you just had a name? Caroline.

I know he meant to do right by her,
he just...

..never got the chance.

We'd no mind to go causing trouble,

or bustling in on someone's life
unwanted.

No, for all we know, that girl may
have found a good man to take her
and the child on both,

to give them a name and a decent
Christian raising.

We just wanted to find out.

It's important to know these things
when you get to our age.

They've gone. There's nothing more
they can do.

They're leaving a man on the gate.

You knew Adrian Weiss, Mr Fitzowen?

I wouldn't say that.

He wrote to me some months ago
asking for any information I may
have on the Blaise-Hamiltons.

I referred him to my book, now sadly
out of print.

You never met him? No, I read of his
murder in the Mail, of course.

And naturally, I've been following
news of this girl's disappearance.

Where were you on Saturday
afternoon, just for the record?

In the Eagle, for the most part.

Most certainly not in the museum,
cutting anyone's throat.

Can anyone vouch for you?

The landlord, I should imagine.

And my fellow reprobates.

Interesting all this should be
happening now,

this Wednesday marking the centenary
of the murders.

If you'd like to take a seat,

I've taken the liberty...

A magic lantern show.

I believe it may prove instructive.

The talk at the time suggested Mrs
Blaise-Hamilton may've been the
perpertrator.

But since she was long afflicted
with a nervous malady and confined
to her bed,

that was quickly discounted.

These are official police
photographs. How'd you come by them?

There's a lively trade in such
material, Inspector.

Amongst connoisseurs of the macabre.

The case was originally under the
control of a County officer,

Superintendent Edgeton - a good man
but out of his depth.

Public feeling was running high.
There was a demand for quick
justice.

The Yard sent Detective Inspector
Langley and Detective Constable Cuff

to take over the investigations.

Their enquiries soon led to Joseph
O'Connell,

originally of County Wicklow and a
well-known local poacher.

It was given under oath at the
inquest by the family gamekeeper,

Benjamin Pickstock and his son
Robert,

that O'Connell had been sworn to be
revenged on Blaise-Hamilton...

..for a just flogging received at
his hand.

We found no record of the trial.

Nor will you.

Before the police could take him, he
was found with his throat laid open
from ear to ear

by his own hand,

thus avoiding the noose which surely
awaited him.

Was he guilty?

Bearing the surname Fitzowen, I can
testify to this.

When in doubt, blame the Irish.

But Inspector Langley didn't believe
so, and those doubts cost him his
job.

He was dismissed from the police and
died a broken drunk,

in a cheap rooming house in Dorking.

He thought O'Connell had been framed?

Samuel Blaise-Hamilton was a rich
and powerful man,

who numbered the Commissioner of
Police and the Home Secretary
amongst his intimates.

So it went unsolved. Officially.

My own theory is that it was the
surviving daughter, Charlotte...

..who slew her siblings armed with a
croquet mallet.

What photographic evidence I've
managed to unearth bears out my
theory.

If those scratches aren't the sign
of an overwhelming hatred,

I don't know what is.

It would appear, like her mother,
Bloody Charlotte was of unsound
mind.

Records confirm that shortly after
the murders,

her father had her quietly and
permanently committed to Holmwood
Park Sanitorium,

where in 1908, she died alone and
unmourned,

the last of her blood.

What do you reckon, then? Are we
gonna do it tonight?

Do what?

Get past Portugal.

Oh, morning, Morse.

Mrs Thursday.

I don't know. We've as good a chance
as any, I suppose.

Without Greaves, though? What's
this?

The football cup.

No, not you too. I'll be glad when
it's all over.

Mum, have you done my sandwiches?

RADIO: The match, characterised by
onlookers as a series of fouls,

adds to the general climate of
increasing violence in the
tournament's closing stages.

Are you in tonight to help me and
Sam on aerial duties, Joan?

No, I said I'd see Maureen.

Oh, right.

Saddle up, then, Morse.

Sergeant Jakes called first thing.

We've got a likely prospect for
Weiss in the cells, Ossie Lloyd.

Ossie Lloyd?

But he's a housebreaker, not a
killer. He was found with Weiss's
gold watch on him.

And once he's sober, I'll be putting
one or two hard questions his way.

What about this missing girl, Bunty
Glossop?

I can see how something like this
might tickle your fancy.

Something out of the ordinary,
downright peculiar, if you ask me,

100-year-old unsolved murder on top.

Don't get so you can't see the wood
for the trees. I need you with feet
firmly four square.

No objection to me turning over
Weiss's study again, in case there's
anything we missed?

You mean just in case there's
anything me and Sergeant Jakes
missed?

Just keep it in the here and now,
all right?

All right, sir.

All due respect to Sergeant Jakes,

but he's got it wrong on this one.

I've fallen short once or twice, but
something like this?

Violence, murder? It's never been my
line.

You were seen at the museum.

What were you doing there?

I went in there out of the rain,
didn't I?

The whole town's in the pub watching
the football,

and you choose that moment to try
and improve yourself?

Come off it. You were on the dip.

How'd you come by the fob watch?

I found it, didn't I?

Alley behind the museum there. Just
lying there, it was.

Finders keepers.

I may have to borrow some of these.

Take what you like. I can't see the
interest myself.

In knowing where you came from?

What does it matter nowadays?

It matters to most, I'd have thought.

To a few, probably a great deal more.

Not to me. I never knew my father.

A wrong 'un, my mother said. She
must have thought something of him
once.

Surely who you are and what you can
do

counts more than breeding, so
called?

Did your uncle mention Shrive Hill
House? I'm afraid not.

Is it important?

He seems to have thought so.

(Knock at door)

I was looking for the senior curator.

I'm afraid Dr Rowse is on holiday
till the end of August.

I see.

Well, maybe you can help me.

I don't know if I can be much use.
What is it you want to know?

It would appear Mr Weiss has been in
contact with Dr Rowse,

concerning the Blaise-Hamiltons,

and their estate in particular.

Is there such a thing? There
would've been, presumably.

I wouldn't count on it.

We've recently recatalogued many of
the exhibits.

I'm fairly certain their line came
to an end late last century, hence
the bequest.

What was left here would've been
auctioned off.

The proceeds, along with the sale of
the house and other estate would
revert to the Crown.

Still, I'd like to see anything the
museum holds in its archive
concerning their affairs.

Of course. I'll see what I can do.

You're not coming like that, are
you?

Don't tell me you've forgotten?

I'll be in the car.

Nurse Hicks.

Hi, it's me, Morse.

Hello.

About tonight.

I have to work, sorry.

Thanks... for letting me know.

I've got to get back to work.

Come on.

Can't believe we're missing this for
the pictures.

Just my blooming luck.

I thought we'd go out on Saturday.

Ohh!

You got England in the station
sweep, didn't you?

What's she like, this friend?

I haven't met her, have I?

Maureen says she's...
- Hello, Jim!

Ah, hell.

Where would you like your ashes
scattered?

This is a turn up.

I had no idea.

Better play along for Maureen's
sake, maybe drop the "Miss
Thursdays" at least.

How do you know her? At the bank.

Nobody there really knows what Dad
does.

So...

..stronger than a bitter lemon.

Morse?

I'm gonna just pop out.

(Creaking)

(Electricity crackling)

(Screams)

Sssh! What the hell... How did you
get in?

Someone left a window open.

You scared me half to death.

Don't be mad. I had to see you.

STRANGE: God knows how I'll sleep
after that.

(Laughs)Given me the proper willies.

Oh, we're this way.

I'll see you tomorrow, Mo. Bye.

Be good. And if you can't be good...

Be careful. (Chuckles)

(Electricity crackles)

(Hyperventilating)

(Piano plays)

(Distant thud)

Edwina?

(Screams)

Everything all right? You don't seem
yourself tonight.

Sorry.

Er... work.

This runaway from the school?

It was on the radio.
You'll find her.

I think this is the bit where I say,
"Thanks for a lovely evening."

And you say, "How about a coffee?"

And I say, "I can't."

So we have a long kiss under the
porch light until my dad taps on the
window

and then I go in and you go home.

I don't care for coffee.

Tonight at the pub.

That girl.

I shouldn't have lied. "The road to
hell..."

Buy her some flowers.

It's not like that.

Besides, I don't know if she's the
flower sort.

We're all the flower sort.

Night.

You've heard a second girl's gone
missing? Edwina Parrish? That's...

The youngest of them. I want to go
back out there.

I've told you, it's not our case.
It's connected.

Is this about proving something to
County? County?

No, today's the centenary of the
murders.

I thought if anything was going to
happen...

What do you think went on? Some
spectre reached from the grave to
slash Weiss's throat?

Of course not.What, then?

I don't know. But there's something
malign going on out there.

If we don't stop it...

Thank you.

Hello, you.

What's the latest?

Obviously, you've heard another
one's gone missing.

County are keeping it close to their
chest,

but there's talk a girl answering
Bunty's description

was seen on a train out of
Paddington last evening.

Do you believe it?

Your colleagues appear to.

Maybe this second girl's just copied
the first.

I saw Edwina go into the music room.

And there was another child in
there,

a girl, wearing Victorian clothes.

As I walked towards them, the door
slammed shut in my face.

So you tried the handle?

Yes, the door wouldn't open.

But it did when you returned with
Miss Symes? Yes.

We went inside and the room was
empty.

(Clears throat)

Edwina isn't the sort of girl that
might just run away, for sport, say?

If anything, she clung to Miss Symes
and I like a suckling calf missing
her mother.

So...

there's you, still pink from your
bath...

flitting around school in your night
clothes, is that usual?

I wasn't flitting, I was tidying the
art room. That's when the lights
went.

Is that a common habit, is it...

..soaping paint brushes after dark?

What can you tell me about Billy
Karswell?

I was given to understand that the
County Constabulary

was handling the investigation from
here on in.

That's right. Not to seem
impertinent,

but I believe the
disappearances are connected to

another matter, the one
I talked to you about.

The murder at the museum?

I found this amongst Mr Weiss's
personal effects.

Any idea why he would have kept that?

Did you ever speak with him?

About my accident? Good heavens, no!

What possible reason could I have
had?

I didn't even know the man.

(Piano plays)

Thank you, Miss Symes.

Stop it at once, you wicked girl!

Go to your room!

My God.

What's happening to us?

(Door slams)

You're Indian, Miss Danby tells me.

What of it?

Nothing of it.

I'm paid to ask questions.

Actually, I'm Anglo-Indian.

"Fish-nor", some of the girls call
me.

Because I'm neither fish nor fowl.

I found this by your bed.

The underlined passages, was that
you?

It was like that when I pinched it.

You pinched it from where?

The staff room.

I just liked the cover.

That it was about Blythe Mount.

What did you make of them...

the Blaise-Hamiltons?

They were... of their time.

My father says that the Raj was a
long injustice.

But if it had not existed, then
neither would I.

The past can only hurt us if we let
it.

Morse?

You coming, then? Goodbye.

What's all this, then, Billy? Huh?

Spying on young girls in their
underthings, are you, huh?

Bet that got you up in a right
lather, didn't it, eh?

Hm?

Where's Edwina, Billy?

Where'd you take her?

Oi!

What do you want with him?

Your son's a suspect in the missing
persons inquiry.

We've nothing to hide.

Then you'd have no exception to me
taking a look round your property?

Billy, let the man in.

He's not a bad lad, just a bit wild
like his mother, God rest her.

Romany, see.

Where was he Saturday afternoon?

Went into town, watched the football
with his mates.

Got back here, what, about half-past
six?

Have you worked here long?

30 years, nigh on, and my father
before me.

There's always been a Karswell at
Blythe Mount.

Not always.

100 years ago, a family called
Pickstock lived here,

when it was owned by the
Blaise-Hamiltons, tea planters.

What's your point?

My point is that three of the
Blaise-Hamilton children were
murdered

a stone's throw away from this
cottage.

The case remains unsolved.

Bit late to fetch anyone to court,
then.

Everyone at the school seems to know
about it, the Headmistress included.

Yeah, well, I wouldn't set too much
store by what you hear up there.

Half mad, most of them.

Small wonder, too.

All women together?

It's against nature.

All right, sleep tight.

Is this really necessary?

Bolting us into our rooms as though
we were common criminals.

It's for your safety. Safety?

The girls must be frightened out of
their wits.

I don't want anyone roaming the halls
after dark.

The girls are locked in their dorm,
no chance of anyone getting in.

What's all this?

Just something for work.(Phone
rings)

Hello?

It's Sergeant Jakes.

(Thunder rumbles)

What's your angle, then, hm?

Who are you trying to impress?

Just trying to find out what
happened.

What did the groundsman's boy have to
say?

Hm.

He says they're not shy, the girls.

At least the football's looking up,
eh?

Who'd have thought it?

Can't see us beating the Jerries,
mind.

Not at football, anyway.(Knock at
door)

(Knocking is repeated)

Good evening.

The school's given him permission to
be here.

Apparently his old publisher sits on
the board of governors.

With this place back in the news,
they're thinking of reprinting his
book.

Keep a close eye on him, I'm gonna
take a turn round the place, make
sure we're secure.

(Plays notes on piano)

Temperature's dropping.

The boiler's gone off.

So, what's with the recorder? A
hobby.

For the last 40 years,
I've made field recordings

of some of the most
haunted sites in Britian.

I don't suppose you believe a word
of it.

Isn't that what it's all about?

Hope, belief, that a better world
lies just beyond?

Is that so bad?

Death is the end, Mr Fitzowen.
Believe me, I've seen enough of it.

But what comes after?

In my experience, the police.

I thought this place was
supposed to be locked

up tight? Jakes found an
alibi for Ossie Lloyd.

But the front door was left wide
open!

There!

Morse!

Are you sure she came this way?

There!

Morse!

My God!

I need help! In here, now!

Get an ambulance, now!

(Screams)

Bunty?

No.

Sir, this is a County case, and I
can tell you...

I can tell you we're not going to
stand and argue like Burke and Hare
over a murdered child.

Sir... Do not mistake me!

One word more, one word, and you
will spend the rest of your days on
point duty.

Am I understood?

Thursday? Maud Ashenden, sir.

12 years old.

Supposed to have left for the
holiday.

Told her parents she was visiting
another girl for the summer.

School thought she was at her
parents', the parents thought...

I think we have it.

She was in it with these other
girls?

Bunty Glossop and Edwina Parrish.

They seemingly found a box of old
clothes in the attic.

This place is like a honeycomb.

Back stairs, concealed corridors...

It would certainly allow the girls to
go about the school unseen

and enact their haunting unhindered.

(Giggling)

It was Maud I saw in the attic.

An eighth girl beyond the seven we
knew about.

Simple but effective.

So what, they thought they'd put a
scare on their schoolmates?

To get back at some of the older
girls.

There'd been some bullying, I
believe.

Dr DeBryn?

The fall notwithstanding,

a single wound to the throat.

The same as Adrian Weiss.

There's a blood trail upstairs.

The locus of the attack was in the
corridor,

directly outside a door.

Outside Miss Symes' bedroom, sir.

Where was County when all this was
happening?

I was trying to find the fusebox.

There's no inkling on how the
assailant might have got in and out?

The front door was open when I
arrived, sir.

But as to how he made his escape...

My men are scouring the grounds,
but...

darkness, a place this size...

I wouldn't hold much hope.

Clean away, then? No notion as to
who might have done such a thing?

There's a chance one of the girls
might have seen something.

Excuse me, sir.Gently, please.

County have turfed over the
Karswells' cottage.

Nothing to suggest they knew Maud
any better than the others.

Both of them asleep at the time of
the murder. That was convenient.

Church took his time finding the
fusebox.

You want to think twice before you
go laying blame.

Just happened to be on his rounds
when Maud was killed?

You're gonna accuse me of being a
part of it next.

Maudie was my best friend.

It was our idea.

We didn't mean it.

Don't you worry about that. Just you
tell us what you saw.

We were racing around.

And I'd just come into the corridor
when...

I saw someone.

Just for a second,

when the camera light flashed.

With Maudie...

standing outside Miss Symes' room.

Do you know who it was?

I couldn't see their face.

Maudie seemed like she was
floating...

..towards the banister.

And then she fell.

And when the light flashed again,
there was no one there.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

I didn't mean it and I'm sorry.

Nobody tried your door, Miss Danby?
No.

I was locked in the whole time.

And you heard nothing?

Only that terrible scream.

Miss Symes, can you think of anyone
who might wish to do you harm?

You told me you've no connection, as
far as you're aware, with Adrian
Weiss?

I thought not.

But, well, you see...

..I had a great many telephone calls
from the newspapers after my car
accident.

And I thought he was just another
reporter.

But looking back,

he wanted to come out to the school
and none of the others who
telephoned wanted to do that.

And this was Mr Weiss?

I took his name for "White".

But it's possible I misheard.

But what would he want with me?

Oh, that poor child!

Her poor, poor parents.

There was nothing you could've done.

The wound was grievous, mortal.

At least the fall...

Adults, one takes the rough with the
smooth.

But this...

You find this piece of work, Morse.

You find whoever did that.

For me, all right?

You find them.

It now appears that the murders of
Adrian Weiss and Maud Ashenden are
connected.

To that end, a joint investigation
by City and County forces has been
convened,

to be led by Detective Inspector
Thursday.

This will be a round-the-clock
inquiry, we have the dayshift,
County the night.

Thursday?

There's a lot of you here turned out
for a second shift last night.

That'll make this a 36-hour go for
some.

But look sharp.

We're hunting a very dangerous
individual,

one who won't shrink from harming a
child.

We need to catch him.

And quickly.

That's the job.

Get to it.

TAPE RECORDING: My God!

I need help!

In here, now!

Get an ambulance, now!

(Scream)

It was horrible.

That's our killer.

A bit different to writing about
him.

We'll need to retain the photographs
and the negatives.

If you remember anything...

..or even if you just want to talk...

that'll find me.

It wasn't your fault, you and the
other girls.

It was just a game.

If we hadn't have... No, no.

What happened here was a grown-up's
fault. Do you understand?

Was it Maud who wrote "Save me"?

I asked her to.

It was you that slipped the note into
my pocket?

That was part of the game too?

Not altogether.

Bunty said a man's been seen hanging
around the school after dark.

She said that your haunting was
meant, in part, to scare him off.

Do you think that man could've been
Billy Karswell?

It wasn't Billy.

It's not a boy.

It's a man.

I know who it is.

I didn't tell Bunty cos I didn't
want to get anyone in trouble.

But with what's happened to
Maudie...

I...

At the museum.

I was looking for the loo.

And then I saw them, together.

How long have you been seeing him?

Two months, on and off.

More on than off.

MORSE: That's why you took the girls
to the museum?

I don't know. I suppose.

How did you meet?

A pub in town.

A day off.

I only went in out of the rain.

He was on his own and I was...

I don't know.

34, unmarried.

A schoolmistress in the middle of
some God-forsaken nowhere.

Haven't you ever been lonely?

I didn't want to get Vicky...

Miss Danby in trouble.Yourself,
more like.

You can see how it looks.

Two murders - one right here when
you were present, the other in a
location you know well.

Where were you last night?

Here.

Working till gone ten.

Anyone vouch for you?

No.

I wish there were.

But what earthly reason could I have
for wanting to hurt this Weiss chap,

never mind a child?

For God's sake, a little girl,
it's...

It's too awful.

What do you know about Miss Symes?

The Headmistress?

Nothing.

Besides, she'd have had me flayed if
she found out I was seeing Miss
Danby.

Look...

I don't know if this is any use.

But I saw someone, the night this
second girl, Edwina...

the night she went missing.

As I was leaving, he was stood,
watching the school.

What'd he look like?

It was too dark to see but he saw
me, and er... ran off.

And you didn't think to offer that
up before now?

No.

I should have, I see that now,
but...

like I said...

You didn't want to get Miss Danby in
trouble.

What a gent.

How are you making out with all
this? Oh.

I think I've something for the
Gardiners, the American couple.

It looks like Weiss had managed to
trace their grandchild.

I think we should pass it on to them.

All right, first thing. Come on,
then.

Just a few more hours.

It's County's got nights, Morse.

No later than ten, then.

(Phone rings)

(Ringing continues) Will somebody get
that?

(Phone rings)

Morse, hello?

He's here.

(Thudding)

Bunty?

Sir, it's Black. Black's the killer.
What?

He's at Blythe Mount now.You sure?

I'll explain on the way.

I've told back-up to meet us there.

I think it all started in India,
around 1850,

with Samuel Blaise-Hamilton.

Soul heir to this tea plantation
worth, I don't know...

millions in today's money.

Hundreds of thousands at least.

He already had a wife in England but
it seems he took up with this young
Indian woman.

They had a son, Robert.

After the Mutiny in '57, he came back
to England with the boy.

People may have turned a blind eye to
that kind of thing out there, but
here, no.

So he passed his own son off as the
child of a colleague killed in
Cawnpore.

But certain passages underlined in
Mrs Blaise-Hamilton's Bible

refer to bastardy, which would
suggest that she knew the truth.

What is clear is that he made some
kind of agreement with Benjamin
Pickstock,

the gamekeeper.

He gave the boy to them to raise as
their own.

THURSDAY: Who's to say it wasn't
Pickstock's natural son?

MORSE: The 1861 census.

Mrs Pickstock was too old to have had
a child Robert's age.

It may have ended there,

but the child knew the truth.

Imagine how that must have been for
him.

Watching, as the years past,

his true father's family grow and
thrive.

Knowing that but for a
piece of paper and a sense

of hypocrisy, all of
that could've been his.

Should've been his.

So his resentment grew, until his
anger could be contained no more.

Fitzowen was right, then.

O'Connell was framed.

If it came out who'd really killed
the children,

the next question would be, why?

Blaise-Hamilton couldn't allow that
to happen.

Say you're right. What's all this to
do with Terence Black

and the murder of Weiss and Maud
Ashenden?

With all the children murdered, save
one,

it seems the Blaise-Hamilton family
went into terminal decline.

But nearing death,

father and son forgave one another.

In accordance with a will drawn up a
few years earlier,

the family fortune went to the
surviving legitimate child.

Bloody Charlotte.Bloody Charlotte,

who died unmarried and without issue.

What happened to the money if
Charlotte died childless?

She did, but one strand of the
bloodline remained.

Robert Pickstock.Yes.

But any issue from Robert Pickstock
would be illegitimate.

They'd have no claim on any money.

If Parliament follows the Russell
Committee's report

on Illegitimacy and Inheritance, that
could change.

In any event, I think the news of the
committee being convened gave hope to
Terence Black.

Adrian Weiss, employed by Black,

discovered a direct bloodline going
back five generations and several
changes of name

to Samuel Blaise-Hamilton.

Where's your evidence? It all seems
a bit circumstantial.

At the time of his death, Adrian
Weiss was drawing up a coat of arms.

It was unnamed, but it included
various clues in the form of rebuses,

heraldic jokes which would suggest it
was meant for Terence Black.

The escutcheon is sable, the heraldic
term for "black".

In the upper sinister quadrant is a
pick-axe, or pick,

while the lower dexter quadrant
contains flowers of the genus
Matthiola longipetela,

also known as stocks.

So you have pick, stocks - or
Pickstock.

But if he was Blaise-Hamilton's son,
shouldn't that be on there?

It is. Entwined around the
bar sinister is a leafed

stem of the Camellia
sinensis, the tea plant.

Its meaning is used to denote
bastardy - thus, Pickstock's bastard,

or the bastard laid upon Pickstock.

He'd even traced the pension paid by
Samuel to Robert's mother in India,
50 rupees a month.

But there's only one problem. Weiss's
genealogical examination

turned up a second claimant to the
fortune.

A third cousin, once removed.

Miss Symes.

Terence Black could've reached out to
her, to the relative he never knew
existed.

But that would involve him sharing
half the fortune which he wanted as
his own.

So Miss Symes would have to go.

But Terence Black acted without first
silencing

the only man who knew there was a
connection between the two.

THURSDAY: Adrian Weiss.

So Black lured Weiss to the museum
for one last meeting.

THURSDAY: But why did he pretend to
kill Weiss with a katar?

MORSE: A nod to the past, perhaps.

(Groans)

One last thing puts it beyond all
doubt.

For something more than just a legend
was handed down...

from father...

..to son,

to great-great-great-grandson.

So this affair with Miss Danby,
then?

He only started it in order to gain
access to the school.

And learn its secrets, presumably.

So last night, he went
there in order to kill

Miss Symes but couldn't
get past her locked door.

When Maud came upon him in the
corridor,

he was afraid she'd recognise him
from the museum.

Dressed like that, he'd no way of
knowing that of all the children in
the school,

she's the only one that didn't go on
the visit.

Oh, it's you.

Where are the children? Locked in
their rooms, I'd think, after last
night.

You mean you haven't checked? I've
just got here.

I thought you had a man on the
house? He rang in sick.

Is he here? Someone's done the
lights in.

Where are they, basement? You go.

Just make sure the girls are all
right.

Strange, hold the door. Nobody gets
past you.

We need to find Bunty before he does.

Inspector Thursday and myself will
see to the staff, you and Church
find the child.

(Gasps)

Miss Symes?
- Yes?

This is the police. Do not unlock
your door until otherwise
instructed.

(Screams)

(Screams)

Don't be a fool. Give her up now.

Don't make things worse.

Away!

I'm warning you, stand back.

If you come after me, her blood will
be on your hands!

Stand off. You know I'll do it.

Bunty, look at me. He's not going to
hurt you.

Are you sure of that?

(Bunty whimpers)

"Beware of the Jabberwock."

What comes next?

Agh!

THURSDAY: Morse!

Morse!

Aargh!

(Panting)

It's all right.

I asked you to save me.

And you did.

All right?

I said I'd catch the Final with Sam.
You're welcome to join us if...

I've stuff to do here.

But thank you, though.

No? Well...

We found a cache of material at
Black's. Weiss must have turned them
up.

Have a shufti when you've a minute.

Tomorrow, then. Thank you, sir.

(Excited shouts of encouragement)

Go on, Bobby! Go, Bobby!

Come on, come on!

TV: ..the Germans are going down and
they can hardly get up.

It's all over, I think!

And here comes Hurst, he's got...

Some people are on the pitch, they
think it's all over...

It is now! It's four!

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