All language subtitles for episode_2_-_the_rising_of_the_moon

Tonight on Mystery.

The quintessential English village.

Not the first place one associates with
murder, but consider. What else is there

to do but die of boredom?

I think we have our killers, Bradley.

Hard to obvious, don't you think?

Diana Rigg stars as Mrs. Bradley on
Mystery. Murder is no business for a

You should be at home.

Throwing yourselves onto horses and
tying yourself to railings.

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As she'd be the first to admit, Adella
Bradley has quite enjoyed the perks of

being a wealthy, beautiful divorcee.

Over the years, she's charmed the socks
off any number of men, including an

ambassador, a couple of counts, and
perhaps even her own chauffeur, George.

Now she seems to have a new man on the
hook.

Henry Christmas, such a promising name,
is a Scotland Yard inspector and a great

admirer of Mrs Bradley's brains.

But before any romance can take root,
the two must investigate some strange

doings among a band of travellers, which
is rather a quaint name for trapeze

artists, knife throwers, fire eaters and
other riffraff.

Of course, Mrs B feels right at home
with this crowd. She prefers them, in

to most of the respectable people she
knows.

To paraphrase George Bernard Shaw, the
more respectable you are... the more

you're probably hiding.

Let's just hope Inspector Christmas has
a bit of riffraff in him.

Adela Bradley in The Rising of the Moon.

The greatest knife thrower in all the
land!

Ladies and gentlemen, please show your
appreciation for Cassidy. And next,

little Bernard will be eating...

Do you think we'll get around to playing
a proper tune?

It's innovative, George.

Oh, innovative.

Right.

Thank you.

Oh!

I can't make up my mind whether he looks
vaguely fascinating or fascinatingly

vague.

I think you're about to find out.

Hello? Mrs. Bradley.

Inspector Christmas here. Inspector who?

Henry Christmas.

We've met before.

Ah, yes.

I'm not interrupting anything, am I?

Not at all.

I've been reacquainting myself with one
of your books. An intriguing read.

Wait till my memoirs are published.

I was drawn to a particular passage.

To understand the psychology of the
outcast, one must first ask...

He or she rejected the norms of society
or simply challenged them.

Unusual theory.

That's why I decided to call you.

I find myself in an interesting
predicament.

What makes you so interesting?

I'm calling from the village of Little
Fordham.

A young woman was murdered here tonight.

And? The murder took place at a circus.

Very gruesome.

The victim, a foreigner, it seems,
belonged to the show.

Case solved by now if it wasn't for the
other travelers refusing to cooperate.

The phrase blood out of a stone springs
to mind.

And what makes you think they'll talk to
me?

Facts are my forte, Mrs. Bradley.

The psychology of the criminal mind is
yours.

Along with your powers of persuasion.

Almost on a par with yours.

I take it I've managed to spark the
flames of your curiosity.

I'm positively aglow, Inspector.

Can I get the bill, madam?

You're the cream in my coffee.

You're the salt in my stew.

You would always be my necessity. I'd be
lost without you.

You're the starch in my collar.

You're the lace in my shoe.

You would always be my necessity. I'd be
lost without you.

And each tale dovetails. You know each
no way.

This way is my own way.

The quintessential English village.

Not the first place one associates with
murder, but consider.

Once the peas have been picked, the
cakes baked and the preserves preserved,

what else is there to do but die of
boredom?

Or kill to avoid it.

I've never seen the appeal of circuses,
myself.

Clowns give me the creeps, and the less
that about magicians, the better.

What have you got against magicians?

I was once badly scarred by audience
participation.

Really? In what way?

I'd rather we didn't go into it, madam.

Circus performers have always rather
fascinated me.

The art of illusion, deception.

It's more practice than art. I bought
this to prove it.

Now, pick a card and don't tell me what
it is.

Queen of Diamonds.

More practice, perhaps?

Glad you could help out, Mr. Bradley.

We haven't even been able to move the
body yet.

You'll want to see it, of course.

Of course. This way.

You're out of time, Mr. Mooney.

Moody? Yes, that's the way these circus
performers are. Better keep yourself

amused. No idea how long we'll be.

Obviously decided to give the audience a
grand finale.

No murder weapon, no fingerprints.

Most likely motive, robbery.

A purse was stolen containing the
Knights of the Kings.

From these wounds, I'd say the attack
was hurried, spontaneous.

Not enough bruising to indicate a major
struggle.

There's a tiny nick on the neck. Not the
sort of wound one associates with an

attack of this nature.

She was the human target in a knife
-throwing act.

The knife probably nicked her during the
performance.

If there was a struggle, these would
have delivered some pretty nasty

Rather an ironic death, given the fact
that she was so adept at dealing with

knives.

The lacerations run from left to right,
which probably means the killer was

right -handed. Elsa found this where she
was nicked by the knife.

A scarf?

Which was part of her costume.

So we're missing a scarf, her purse, and
the murder weapon.

But to find them, we'll have to get past
the travellers first, which is where I

need your help.

Has no one ever told you that an
eavesdropper never hears anything good

themselves?

Mr... Moody.

George.

They've got more important things to
talk about. Oh, poor George.

Feeling left out?

This must all have come as a bit of a
shock for you.

How very observant.

Well, you probably knew the dead girl
quite well.

Tell me, what is a chauffeur doing
asking questions about a murder?

Perhaps you'd rather Mrs. Bradley talk
to you. I'd rather nobody talk to me,

although I must admit...

I quite like a man in uniform.

Don't worry, George, I'm not going to
devour you.

I don't eat meat.

What about the knife thrower? Was he
close to Coralie?

George, curiosity killed the cat.

I've never been over -fond of cats.

And we are not over -fond of people
poking their noses in where they're not

wanted.

Just make a conversation.

Do you ever take that off?

It's me own hair.

I suppose they're your own feet.

Would you recommend this?

I'd recommend that you stay away from
us.

Well, there could be two dead bodies.

One murder investigator is quite enough.

Thank you. If Mrs. Bradley and I are to
find Coralie's murderer, we'll need your

cooperation.

Without it, I'm afraid I'll have no
option but to take you to the station

questioning.

It's up to you.

As I said before, Inspector, you won't
find the murderer amongst us.

I suggest you look elsewhere.

Are you aware that obstructing the
course of justice is against the law,

Law is made for the likes of you, not
us.

I won't give you another warning.

George,

I need your body.

I hope this works.

I hope so too.

But it's the best way I can think of
gaining their trust.

I can't do it.

Not without her.

Much obliged, madam.

Bravo, George.

Well, there's no point doing these
things off, cock.

They'll be more cooperative now.

I've told you I'm not going on without
her. What if I were to take her place?

No one can ever take her place.

We'd like to talk to you and Mr.
Castries, madam.

See the others first, huh?

He's too upset to talk at the moment.

Scratches on the back would indicate a
passionate relationship, which is why my

late husband's body remained totally
unscathed. Looks like Castries may have

lost more than just a partner in his
act.

Madame Marlena seemed keen to take
Coralie's place.

She clearly doesn't like the idea of I
can't say I blame him. She's dangerous

with that whip.

I thought all policemen liked corrective
discipline.

There are exceptions.

I would say the murder was a crime
passionelle. The lovers argue, the knife

thrower lashes out in the heat of the
moment.

Unfortunately, the real truth lies with
Coralie Dubois.

Who was she? What brought her to
England?

Was she always a traveller?

I'd like to think her epitaph would be
rather more than just...

Murder victim.

Excuse me, we're looking for little
Bernard.

You found him.

What do you know about Coralie Dubois'
background?

Only that she came over from France
years ago.

Paris, I think.

She kept her affairs to herself.

Including her affair with Mr. Castro?

You'll have to talk to him about that.

She wasn't the only one.

She always made a platter, Daisy.

She gave her this.

From Paris.

Everyone here thought the world of her.

What about Madame Marlena?

Could she have resented Coralie?

This is in confidence.

She didn't care for her much, no.

See, she's got a soft spot for
Catherine.

He's always been a favourite, despite
his temper.

Despite his temper, sir, as I thought.
Probably a lover's tiff which ended with

Catherine's killing his paramour.

But we still haven't talked to Archie
the Clown or even Catherine himself.

I'll leave that to you, Mrs Bradley,
while I search his caravan.

Fine. There's too much feed. Yes, your
feed.

How long have you been with the show, Mr
Burlington?

20 years.

Before that, I was with my father's
troupe, and we were the best around.

My grandfather once worked with Miss
Kitty Lindsay's educated Mexican

If your father's troupe was the best
around, why did you leave?

I was in a double act.

I lost my partner.

Did she, um, disappear?

She found someone else, a tumbler called
Ted.

I told her she was too good for him,
but, uh...

You know how women are?

A man of your experience.

You must command a great deal of respect
among the other artistes.

I did.

When I was the main attraction before
Castries came along.

Matt of Marlena is very protective
towards him.

Besotted with him, more like. I knew it
was a mistake letting a woman run this

show. Castries seems to make the most of
it. Well, he won't last. He hasn't the

temperament for it.

In what way? He's always flying off the
handle at the slightest thing, throwing

tantrums if he doesn't get his way.

Usual, please, Ruby.

I'm surprised you haven't thought enough
pest problem yet.

The freaks in that show.

Have you seen it?

Not in my cup of tea.

You didn't miss much.

I'm telling you, they give me the
creeps.

Can't you tell them to leave?

You had trouble with them?

You could say that.

You're on the council, John.

There must be something you can do.

Out of my hands, I'm afraid.

Next one's on the house.

If you manage to get rid of them.

You're not of a Clayton man, aren't you,
Ruby?

Her path.

Coralie ever talk about it?

All I know is that she was from France
and she had Romany blood.

She was born under the star.

Did you two have a row last night? Bit
of a barney.

Something and nothing.

We never got the chance to make it up.

So you were still upset with each other
during the act?

Well, she wasn't her usual self.

Oh? It seemed, Ken, it wasn't like her.

Whether we'd had a row or not, she was
always really calm.

But not last night.

She started to become edgy.

Put me off.

That would account for the small cut to
her neck.

I must have lost my concentration for a
second.

I think we have our murderer, Mrs.
Bradley.

It's rather an obvious place to hide
something.

He can't have had time to get rid of
them.

You going to take him in?

With this evidence, I have no choice.

Would you mind holding this a minute?

Why?

Menace. that women are only impressed by
a combination of brains and brawn.

What? Me?

They're right, of course.

Well, we're quite a team, aren't we?

You can be the cream in my coffee any
day.

Well, thank you, Inspector.

Well, let's hope we can work together in
the future, Mrs. Baddeley.

I can't wait.

Mr. Mooney?

It's obviously one of them. It was them
vermin.

I didn't do it!

I didn't do it! He would say that.

You!

I'm telling you, it wasn't me!

I didn't do it!

Are you all right?

I'll live.

Councillor John Forrester.

We'd better move these travellers on for
their own safety.

I understand they'll be leaving tomorrow
now that the inspector has arrested the

suspect. Not a moment too soon.

Come on, boys.

It was easier to solve than you thought,
madam.

The evidence was right under the
inspector's nose, pure and simple.

Oscar Wilde wrote, the truth is rarely
pure and never simple.

Do you think the inspector could be
wrong?

No.

Castries could easily have killed
Coralie during the act and made it look

an accident.

And why hide the evidence in such an
obvious place? Exactly.

But if Castries didn't do it, who would
kill Coralie in such a vicious way?

Whoever it was must have a sick mind.

Oh, she might have.

We will remember her with love and
affection.

But take some comfort from the fact that
she is now with the Lord.

Forever in our hearts and in our
prayers, we will remember her.

It's like a pauper's funeral.

So much for being equal in the eyes of
the Lord.

Some of us are obviously less equal than
others, madam.

If we're saying the inspector's wrong
about castries, who else had a motive to

kill Coralie?

Madame Marlena?

But she wouldn't put the evidence in his
caravan. Castries would be locked up.

Which one of them tried to incriminate
him?

If any of them.

So far, we've only questioned the
obvious suspects, the outcasts.

Let's take a look at the more
respectable locals.

Is that really nothing, Boris?

It is, if I don't want my takings down.

We don't want no riffraff here.

Fair for business.

This is a respectable, friendly place.

Oh, I see.

What can I get you?

Nothing, thank you.

We're helping the police with their
inquiries.

They're late for that, isn't it?

They've got the murderer.

Nothing but trouble, that lot.

Not a fan of the travelling show.

What would I want to go and see a load
of freaks for?

So you wouldn't have been at the show on
the night of the murder, then?

No, I was working.

Now, if you don't mind, I've got
customers to serve.

She's lying.

Yesterday I heard her say she'd been to
the show.

And did you see those nails?

Possibly Coralie wasn't the only one who
was having a fling with Castries.

You think they might have been indulging
in some extracurricular congress?

That was your father, madam. Mm -hmm.

She's a pretty hard -boiled customer.

Maybe we could let her stew for a while
and come back and grill her again later.

Good idea.

Meanwhile, I've got to go and find out
just how far Catherine spread his charms

in the village.

See you on the green.

Help yourself.

What an extraordinary weapon.

Have you had it long?

As long as I can remember.

I feel safer having it here, not with
this terrible murder.

Particularly with all these strangers
around.

Just what these travellers are.

Strange.

It's a shame, ruining the peace of your
beautiful village.

We're not used to such... Things in
little Fordham.

Still, at least they've got the killer
now.

Did he ever come into your shop?

No.

But she did.

The dead girl.

Of course, I kept a close eye on her.

Well, you can't be too careful, can you?

More evil in her than in a witch, I
shouldn't wonder.

Carving a bell on innocent folk like us.

They're all the same.

Young, pretty.

Excuse me.

I've got something on the stove in the
back.

A cauldron, perhaps?

Can I help you, lads?

Oh, look at me. Darn it.

We've never seen a real Rolls Royce
before.

I think you two had better come with me.

It's just like riding a ride.

Wait till we tell Dad and Mrs Cocton
we've been in a Rolls.

I saw you with your dad yesterday.

Did he take you to see the travelling
show?

No. He says we're too young.

Would you like to come back to my house?

You can ask someone, Mrs Cockerton's bun
loaf.

Can't pass up an offer like that, can I?

Guess what card I've got yet.

Ten of clubs.

Yes.

How did you do that?

Mind power.

Me for inducements?

When are you going to make yourself
scarce? Make it worth my while.

Make it worth your while? Am I
interrupting something?

Yes, Sam.

I've been inquiring when the show might
be moving on. We don't want a repeat

performance of yesterday's hostilities.

This is a peaceful village until they
came along.

Just because you're a counsellor does
not mean to say you can order us about.

I've worked with Barnum, you know.

I wonder if he was violent with him as
well.

Do you always greet people in such a
cordial fashion?

This is for protection, if you must
know. You can't trust these people.

Anyway, I don't know what you're still
snooping around for. They found the

murderer. Just tying up a few loose odds
and ends.

Murder is no business for a woman. You
should be at home.

Throwing yourselves under horses and
tying yourselves to railings.

Given the choice of staying at home with
a man like that or throwing oneself

under a horse, I know which I would
choose.

I was out to do some card tricks, Mr
Moody.

Maybe later.

Have another slice, George.

No, really.

Go on.

You could do with a bit of fattening up.

Thank you.

Is there Mrs George to look after you?

No, I'm not married.

I'm divorced, actually.

Really?

It's not easy being by yourself, is it?

I know I've found it a struggle since my
poor Ernest died during the war.

Was he killed in action?

No, he choked to death.

On a slice of Madeira.

I've got to sit on the rolls again,
please.

All right, go on, then. All right, and
don't go breaking anything.

Go on.

Just one more.

Really, I couldn't. I'm not
interrupting, am I?

This is Mrs Pockerton.

We've already met.

Where's Peter and Frances's mother?

Ask Don, poor soul.

John does his best for them, but it's
not easy.

It would take someone very special to
replace his wife.

Of course, there's been a few who've
tried to coax him into marriage.

Filly young article.

Need to?

Claim they had permission to fit in your
roles.

I hope they haven't been any trouble.

No trouble at all.

Mr Moody Joe was right. around the
village.

I hope he didn't charge you for it. I'm
not sure I've ever foot the bill.

Oh, then it'll have to come out of your
pocket money.

I've touched all your shirts and those
vanilla fancies for after tea.

Not for me, thank you, Mrs. Cockerton.
I've got to be at the Red Lion later.

No, I haven't forgotten our bike ride.

Bike race.

No prizes for getting who always comes
last.

I think you've made some friends there.

They're nice lads.

Can't be easy not having a mother
around.

No.

Something striking was rather odd.

Mrs. Cockerton? Far from her.

Did you notice anything missing from the
photographs on the wall?

There weren't any of their mother.

Too painful a reminder, perhaps?

The question is, for who?

Mr. Forrester or Mrs. Cockerton?

Why would it be painful for her?

I get the impression she'd do anything
to keep women away from John Forrester.

even to the point of murder.

Thank you.

How much of the show did you see the
night of the murder?

I've told you, I haven't seen it.

I don't know why you keep going on about
the murder.

The killer's inside, and he ain't coming
out.

They'll do more than keep him inside if
Castro is found guilty.

They'll hang him.

Of course, it's possible that someone is
withholding evidence that might save

him from such a tragic fate.

It would be a terrible thing to have on
your conscience, especially if you knew

him well. Quite.

And that someone may be unaware that
withholding information from the police

an offence.

Could be three years in jail.

Minimum.

Now I come to think of it, I did go to
the show that night.

If I tell you, I don't want it getting
out round here.

to consider.

I've been entertaining that Cassidy the
first night the show came here.

He told me he'd see me after his act the
next night.

But when I got there, he couldn't see
me.

He didn't want to upset his lady friend.

He's got more nerve than I thought.

Shame there's a face in here.

Be with you in a minute, John.

What?

No -one gives me the rub -off.

So I thought I'd give Castery the peace
of my mind.

And that's when we had the screen.

Did you see anyone running away?

No. Look, I know he's a rat, but I
wouldn't want him to hang for something

didn't do.

I'll take that run.

It's hard.

So, Inspector Christmas was wrong.

Castries can't be the murderer.

Someone's in a hurry.

I thought he got a temper on him.

You saw what he was like with me earlier
today.

Whatever he's up to, he doesn't seem to
want us around, does he?

Come on, before we lose him.

I know he likes to think he's a great
magician, but he kind of just

I didn't do it.

Of course you didn't, Archie.

Give me the razor, Archie.

I didn't do it.

Give George the razor, Archie.

I've got officers all over the area
looking for Archie Burlington. He won't

far. Especially with feet that size.

Has Coucher's been released?

Yes, although the natives aren't exactly
friendly at the moment.

Half even with the station for the time
being.

He's got you to thank for avoiding the
hangman's noose.

Good job I got you on the case, Mrs.
Bradley.

What made you suspect Archie Burlington
of being the killer? I didn't, and I've

yet to be convinced that he is.

Despite the fact you found him standing
over the body with his own knife in his

hand. Rather too obvious, don't you
think?

And anyway, the attack on Madame Marlena
was far more frenzied than that on

Coralie Dubois, the killer intended to
kill.

So you think the second murder was more
deliberate planned?

Precisely. It would be a ridiculous plan
for Archie to kill Madame Marlena

knowing he was being followed.

Maybe he wasn't the greatest of
planners.

Why would he want to kill her?

It didn't look like robbery.

He didn't take her purse. You may have
interrupted him as he was about to steal

it.

We know he hated women. Perhaps that's
his motivation.

Archie's misogyny is obvious, whereas an
attack of this nature is far more

motivated by an internal anger, an anger
usually kept under control unless

the man or the woman feel threatened.

So the threat, women in this case, has
to be removed.

Exactly. So if he feels threatened
again, he could kill again.

Very likely.

And as your doubts about Archie
Burlington have indicated, I think we

stick to the facts as we know them.

The prospect, found with his own knife
in his hand, is now on the run.

Showtime.

The next person to try out his forearms
kills will be spending a night at the

station.

Until we find the killer, I suggest you
all go home and lock your doors.

You should never have come to this. Aye.

A siege in our own homes? You should
have moved these people on when I asked

to. As I just said, Mr Forrester, go
back home to your own safety.

Well, it doesn't look like there's much
else we can do, madam, not until they've

caught Archie.

I suppose not. You go back to the car.
I'll follow later.

I take it you're not entirely convinced
by the inspector's version of events?

No, but I am convinced... Someone wants
us to believe that Archie was the

murderer.

Go and get some sweets, Mrs Cockerton.

It's not safe with those travellers out
there.

Please, we'll run all the way.

Go on, then, but come straight home.

Go out the back way.

I've looked the front up.

Drive Where

did

you find that?

You can't keep anything from me, John.

Don't try any funny business.

It's your job.

So, now you've run away from the circus,
what are you going to do with your

life? I'll find something.

It won't be easy trying to find another
job when you're on the run.

If the police ever find you.

I wouldn't like to be in your shoes.

No offence.

If you gave yourself up now, things
would be a lot easier for you.

Maybe it wasn't such a crime after all.

Well, I wouldn't count on a judge
agreeing with you.

I suppose I should have just told the
truth from the start.

So what is the truth?

You're right.

You could have told us this from the
start.

May I come in for a moment?

Yes, of course.

I didn't realise it was half -day
clothing.

Was there something in particular you
wanted? Not really. I just wanted to

a final look round, if that's all right.

This is pretty.

It's French, isn't it?

Yes, I believe so. Would you excuse me?
I've just got to see to something in the

back.

Où sont les garçons?

What? I'm sorry. I just assumed you
spoke French.

Where are the boys?

They've gone to the shop to get some
sweets.

Where are the boys?

I told you, they've gone out.

Don't take them.

They're staying with me.

I'm not going to take them.

You love them very much, don't you?

Yes, of course I do. They're my whole
life.

And you'd do anything to keep them?

Well, that's natural, isn't it? Yes.

It took me a while to see the connection
between the past and the present.

I... I couldn't see the wood for the
trees.

You probably met Coralie in France.

And you took the name of Forrester as an
echo of her name, Dubois, of the woods,

when you returned to England.

Yes. We got married and lived in Paris.

Why did you take the boys away from
their mother?

She found someone else in a circus.

She's going to leave me and take them
with her.

I should have never married her.

She'd have known she'd always be a
Romany.

Coralie could never settle with me.

She wasn't a proper mother to my boys
from the day they were born.

She could never fit in with your ideals
of family and respectability.

She didn't know how to take care of them
and love them as I do.

Love?

She didn't know the meaning of the word.

So you returned to England, assumed a
new identity in life.

And then by some terrible coincidence,
the show came to your village and

found our boys again.

I had to stop her.

She wanted them back to live with her
and catch trees.

And I'd do the same again if anyone
tried to take them from her.

I never thought he was the killer.

I just thought he'd taken all his boys
away.

Hang on, Matt.

Hang on.

Archie needs a couple of volunteers.

He's got a new magic trick he wants to
try out.

Now's your chance to learn from a real
expert.

I can understand why you panicked.

I couldn't believe I'd done it.

I planted her purse in the scarf in
Castry's knife box to make it look like

killed her.

And when that didn't work, you tried to
frame Archie by killing Madame Marlena.

Do you know he tried to blackmail me?

He guessed I knew Coralie.

He demanded money.

He wouldn't go away.

And when Mrs. Coggeton found out the
truth,

you went even further.

She said she wouldn't tell the police if
I agreed to marry her.

More blackmail, you see.

She said the boys needed a mother.

That was the last thing they needed.

I just wanted to be a good father to
them.

I thought they'd be with me forever.

Where are they?

It's all right, John. They're safe.

What have you done to them?

You all right, madam?

Yes, George, thank you.

Although you cut it a bit fine.

Well, you two have obviously been
practicing.

It's mine, Fowler.

You'll have to pick Catherine Archie.

Don't worry, they'll be all right.
They're practically wrong for this,

they?

Good luck.

Yeah.

Goodbye.

Hypothesis. If those are the outcasts of
society, what do we make of John

Forrester, the epitome of
respectability?

As George Bernard Shaw once said, the
more things a man is ashamed of, the

respectable he is.

Well, George, has this latest experience
helped calm your fears about audience

participation? I'm afraid it's only
confirmed them, madam.

I knew you'd crack the case in the end,
Mrs. Bradley.

I'm sure there's a lot you can teach me.
Please, call me Adela.

Perhaps you should become a permanent
member of my team. I wouldn't be here

it not for my loyal chauffeur.

Yes, well done, Mr Mooney.

I'm just off to make a statement to the
press. Of course, I'll let them know

about your invaluable assistance in the
case.

Oh, don't trouble, Inspector.

The less I have to do with the press,
the better.

I wonder what's going to happen to this
place.

I hear it's to become a butcher's. Oh.

I think I'd avoid the pain de savelle à
la manager.

Brain loaf, madam.

You knew

just

what I was there for.

You heard me saying a prayer for.

On what I'm really prepared for.

Tell me, George, how do you feel about
visiting a haunted house?

That depends.

On what?

Who's doing the haunting?

A flickering light moving through the
house.

Ghastly spectre.

Diana Riggs stars as Mrs. Bradley.

I was just getting to that bit.

Next time on Mystery.

Uncover our website at PBS online, www
.pbs .org.

The Mrs. Bradley series is available
from WGBH Boston Video. To place an

please call 1 -800 -255 -9424.

You're the salt in my stew.

You would always be my necessity. I'd be
lost without you.

You're the starch in my collar.

You're the lace in my shoe.

You would always be my necessity.

I'd be lost without you.

Most men tell love tales, and each tale
dovetails. You know each no way.

This way is my own way. You're the cream
in my coffee.

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