All language subtitles for episode_4_-_the_wasted_viper

Tonight on Mystery.

How well do you know your guests?

Well enough.

This is a respectable hotel.

Is it?

Oh well. This is Mrs. Bradley.

Someone appears to have been in my room.

Might I ask where you and your husband
were last night? Either the truth comes

out, or Jake hangs for murder.

Diana Riggs stars as Mrs.

Bradley on Mystery.

Somewhat disturbing with a murderer on
the loose.

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Adela Bradley doesn't mince words, and
why should she? They are her greatest

weapon against fools, cads, criminals,
and ex -lovers.

Words also came easily to Adela's
creator, Gladys Mitchell, who published

80 novels in her long lifetime.

Gladys introduced Mrs. Bradley in 1929
in the book Speedy Death.

She endowed her breezy heroine with
attributes she herself possessed,

an interest in Freud and a passion for
all things British.

Morris dancing, mayday rituals, and the
Loch Ness Monster.

Over the course of some 60 mysteries,
Adela Bradley married and divorced three

husbands, was made a dame of the British
Empire, and a consultant to the British

Home Office.

She also developed prodigious abilities
at pub darts, snooker, billiards and

knife throwing.

The one thing she cannot do is knit.

In tonight's tale, Adela will have to
use her unusual talents to trap a killer

obsessed with an ancient British cult.

It involves the sacrifice of virgins.

Adela has nothing to fear.

But it does remind her of her very first
investigation when she sent a famous

cult leader, Black Jack Briggs, to the
gallows. Is history repeating itself?

God forbid.

That would be too boring for words.

Adela Bradley in The Wusted Viper.

George's daughter sent me.

I once made the mistake of asking him
what she was like.

Twenty minutes of parental pride later,
I had a fairly good idea.

Pretty as a picture, bright as a button,
sweet as sugar.

I do so hope he was exaggerating.

Hello, Dad.

Looking well.

Good to see you.

This is her, madam.

My little Cecily.

Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Bradford.

You're even more glamorous than you say.

Charming girl.

I'm here for Inspector Christensen's
celebration. Yes, madam, they're inside.

And you are?

Ronald Quincy.

Under -manager.

And my fiancée.

You're what?

Excuse me.

You might have told me.

Oi!

Oi! As many of you know, Inspector
Christmas served in the army with great

distinction and then went on to a second
career with the police force.

We're proud that he's chosen our
community for his impending retirement.

Yesterday he was in London receiving his
MBE.

Today we bestow our highest honour, the
freedom of Port Farrokh.

And now a surprise. To make the
presentation, they've managed to

lady the inspector says served as his
inspiration.

Mrs. Adela Bradley.

Well, what an honor, Mrs. Bradley, and
what a week marred by just one thing.

Midnight last night, I was burgled.

Two hands from my own backyard.

Goes to show, sometimes the long arm of
the law is not quite long enough.

Don't be quick.

Temperance.

What is it?

My daughter.

I hear the tragic catalepsy.

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.

And why cut off her lovely hair?

We'll find whoever did this, I promise.

I understand Chastity worked at Quincy's
hotel.

As a waitress, yes.

She wasn't due at work until one
morning.

And I was away last night, visiting with
my sister.

Temperance came with me.

And your wife?

She died bringing Temperance into the
world.

Well, it wasn't robbery, madam.

You're wearing this.

Still fancy yourself with a detective?

Just trying to help, sir.

The watch stopped at 12.

When she hit the water, I'd say.

Giving as probable time of death.

Yes, judging by the condition of the
body.

This isn't a rope. It's some sort of
woolen snake.

A worsted viper.

This reminds me of my first
investigation.

The case of Black Jack Briggs and Bales
of Udds Virgin.

Cutting off a victim's hair is all part
of the ritual.

Black Jack was hanged, but if I'm right,
if someone is reviving the cult,

there'll be something inside the viper's
mouth.

Well, I never.

Just as engaged and brave.

I could stay if it would help.

That was just about to ask.

Thank you.

What a bizarre story.

One man's mumbo -jumbo is another man's
faith, Inspector.

What sort

of a girl was she, Mrs Quincy?

Nice as pie and talented.

She painted those.

How long had you known her?

How well do you know your guests?

Well enough.

This is a respectable hotel.

Is it?

Oh, well.

I beg your pardon?

Respectability.

Highly overrated.

I've arranged lodgings for your
chauffeur opposite the abattoir.

My chauffeur, as I understand it, is
shortly to become a member of your

That's as may be.

Staff, stay in lodgings, you shall.

George stays where I stay.

In various.

How do you do?

Much obliged.

We've all got alibis.

Cast iron.

Naturally.

And before you ask, Ronald and I were
working till well past midnight.

Then we had sardines on toast. And
played cribbage.

Quite the giddy wow.

How was that liquor?

Compliments of Inspector Christmas, ma
'am. How very dear.

You ate carnations?

I love a splash of colour, and it's the
thought that counts.

Chester gave me this to post yesterday.

I didn't get round to it.

Misbehaviour? What character is that?

Who's that, then? Some sort of advice
columnist? Yes.

Dear Misbehaviour, my dilemma is, what
if you discover your employer's up to no

good? Do you speak out, even if it
means... Risking your job, find in two

Do you know what she meant?

Not a clue, madam.

Was anything different about her lately?

No.

Although she did seem a bit better off.

Said she'd been left a few bob.

And I did hear her arguing with her
fiancé yesterday.

What's he like?

Jake?

Well, he's no angel, but he's no
murderer.

He wouldn't harm a fly.

And where can we find him? He lived
above the potted lobster with his

and his sister -in -law.

Tell us about this argument.

Chastity accused me of seeing another
woman.

And where are you?

There is no other woman.

I'm engaged to be married.

Or was.

What's he looking for?

Just routine.

Make yourself useful. Perhaps dance.

Why weren't you out fishing last night?

Food poisoning.

Stayed in bed.

All night and all day?

Went out for some air.

About 11 till half midnight.

Anyone see you?

No. Pity.

Are you suggesting my brother murdered
his own fiancée?

No, Lester. I'm saying it's a shame no
one saw him. That's all.

We just heard.

I was at the hairdresser's. I'm so
sorry.

This is Mrs. Bradley.

She's helping police.

My sister -in -law, Delilah.

Might I ask where you and your husband
were last night around midnight?

I was asleep in Leicester with Man in
the Lighthouse.

I thought you both ran the pub.

We do.

I go up to Lighthouse after closing time
to spend the night there.

When do you sleep?

From dawn till we open up at dinner
time.

He loves to keep busy.

Somebody's got to pay for your hairdos.
What have you done now?

Del, you're rude, you lumbag.

Where's the key to the cellar, sir?

I'm not sure.

Whose is the back room?

Mine. Why?

I just found this under the bed.

Jake Hicks, I'm arresting you on
suspicion of murder.

No need for you to come, Lester.

It's family. I'm going.

I'll see you back at the hotel, madam.

If a picture's worth a thousand words, a
look can be worth even more.

As my hairdresser, Mr.

Gervais of Mayfair, says, same old
coiffure, husband secure.

New style of hair, husband beware.

Jake didn't do it.

He's having an affair with his brother's
wife.

And I'll wager there was an assignation
last night.

Madam? Question is, what's he hiding in
the cellar?

Marriage can be hard work, especially
with your husband away every night.

I've no idea what you're talking about.

Is it so you keep yourself busy making
wedding dresses?

That's for your chauffeur's daughter.

I just hope she didn't meet a pig on the
way back from her wedding.

I beg your pardon?

It was bad luck, see?

Happened to me.

Explains everything.

Make no mistake, Mrs Higg.

Either the truth comes out, or Jake
hangs for murder.

You and he were together last night.

Yes.

On the beach.

We always said if anyone suspected, we'd
just deny it.

You're Jake's only alibi.

Not necessarily.

No wonder he didn't want people looking
in the cellar.

Plymouth Rock.

Beauties, aren't they?

I believe you said they were stolen at
midnight, sir.

Yes, the scorpion woke me. I ran out,
but they'd gone.

They're sure it was Jake.

Positive.

Darn people.

Why was Clark a murderer rather than
known up to pinching poultry?

Stalling for time. He didn't want his
affair with Delilah to come out.

I take it you'll be releasing him?

Well, I will if you can tell me what
Chastity's hair was doing under his bed.

Simple enough, sir. Someone tried to
frame him.

That's for Chastity, when they let me
have her back.

Postmortems take time, sir. I'm sorry.

Hello. Beautiful handwriting.

Cool copper plate.

Is it a story?

About Chastity going to heaven.

You should frame it. Hang it up at home.

Perhaps.

People think I'm sad, but I'm not.
Because you'll be with Mummy soon. Daddy

so. Well, you should know.

I'm afraid my belief in God is roughly
on a par with my belief in the tooth

fairy.

Still, at times like this, even I can
see that faith has a place.

So if Jake Hicks is in the clear, you're
none the wiser. And you still think my

daughter's death is to do with the
revival of some sort of cult?

Yes. It was led by Blackjack Briggs. He
murdered three young women, all ritually

sacrificed.

He said he was re -enacting something
called The Legend of Beelzebub's Virgin.

Which was?

A secret he took with him to the
gallows.

Good riddance, if you ask me. People who
believe all that hocus -pocus are

barking mad.

Is there any history of any such cult in
this part of the world?

Well, there was something in the parish
records centuries ago, some pagan

ritual. May I see it?

The records?

Well, they're in Latin.

Ne solicitus, cis proficiam.

What was that?

Don't worry. I'll manage.

Hello, Dad.

Go on, ask him.

You ask him. It's your father.

Dad, we're a bit short of staff.

And Ronald was wondering if you might
help out in the dining room.

Me? Serve people their dinner?

Actually, we call it luncheon.

If Mrs. Bradley wouldn't mind.

Not at all.

He's all yours.

11 .30, then.

Cheerio. I once worked as a waiter,
madam.

Avowed never again.

Ah, but that was before it gave you the
perfect opportunity to eat strong.

No. She's got a one -armed man at table
four.

Bad luck, isn't it?

Oh, yes.

Poor chap.

No, her.

An omen.

You should read this.

Omens and superstition.

Thanks very much.

Oh!

Beg your pardon?

You know, you look quite a different man
out of your chauffeur's uniform.

Let's get on.

Customer's waiting.

I'm off tonight. We've got time for a
chat.

What about?

I'm getting married.

Oh, hadn't you noticed? Yeah, right.

Of course.

There, madam.

Lamb cutlets.

Thank you, George.

I ordered the fish.

Lamb will do.

Isn't the inspector joining you?

He's following up another lead.

A smuggler's ring, I believe.

Oh, what a shame.

Any useful kitchen gossip?

Yes, madam.

If you hold onions underwater while
you're peeling them, they don't make you

cry. Not a dicky bird.

I'll take it these are the parish
records.

Yes, nothing so far.

But then I'm only up to the 15th
century.

What's the matter?

It's Inspector Christmas.

He's been attacked down on the beach.

We've had reports of smugglers.

Someone crept up, gave me a crack on the
head, knocked me out cold.

That's enough.

We've got to find this lunatic before he
attacks someone else. You're going

nowhere but home.

Will you be all right?

Then you are coming with me.

Cognac, madam.

Looks like he was heading for that old
fisherman's cabin.

A whisted viper.

And a pentagram.

And a hawk. I think we can safely assume
that this is the

strangler's lair.

You'd better stay and keep watch,
Constable.

On my own.

Try and be a brave boy.

I'll have some food sent up to the suite
this evening and we'll go over the

parish records.

Actually, I was hoping to see Cecily
tonight, madam. She's asked some advice

marriage and such -like.

Such -like?

I've never heard it called that before.

Good luck.

Little children, headache.

Big children heartache. Or so the saying
goes.

There are three golden rules for
bringing up children.

Alas, nobody knows what they are.

This is Mrs. Bradley.

Someone appears to have been in my room.

Thank you.

He could do with some bacon. Bacon?

It's a cure for baldness.

But only if it's stolen.

Not you as well.

Dung placed around a house will bring
good luck.

Not to mention, it's live.

I heard me.

If a bride spills a single drop of blood
on a wedding dress, she'll be dead by

Christmas. Believe that and you'll
believe anything.

Dad? Mm -hm?

What do you make of them?

They're not nice enough.

Dad?

Really, it's a bit... What's the word?

Alembicated, for my liking.

Alembicated? Stuck up, lardy jar.

I could talk.

There's a difference between affectation
and education.

I know he's not everyone's cup of tea,
but he's a good man, Dad.

And I love him.

Here you go.

All you need to know regarding Wedding
Night Ob.

Wedded Bliss by Adela Bradley.

And if you need any more, I suggest you
write to Misbehaviour at the newspaper.

Already have.

Dear Misbehaviour.

I'm soon to be married. I'm worried
about first -night nerves. That'll do.

your dad, not your doctor.

If you love him, well and good. But
remember, you get what you settle for.

And you've got Mum?

Ah, she wants her bad.

She's got ideas.

Is she coming to the wedding?

I won't know where to send the
invitation.

So what about you?

Anyone special?

Or have you got your hands full with Mrs
Bradley?

Meaning what?

Nothing.

Come on, I'll rest you.

Must be a mistake.

You've got her, Harper.

You're feeling better then, sir? Yes.

We were discussing who tore out half the
parish records and why.

Someone broke in?

Don't worry, I'm fine.

But Ronald Quincy's passkey is missing.

Somewhat disturbing with a murderer on
the loose.

Which is why, George, I suggest you bolt
your door tonight.

Bear that in mind, sir.

Good night.

After a new job, are we?

No, Mrs Quincy, just a spot of supper.

Sounds like a village in Suffolk, your
name. Welcome to Myrtle Quincy.

I do like a sense of humour.

Why don't I join you?

I'll see if I can find a bottle of
something special for my husband's

Oh, your husband.

I'm not sure he'd approve.

Funny man. He's six feet under.

Has been ten years.

Everything all right with your plumbing?

Beg your pardon?

The gentleman in the next room says his
pipes are blocked.

Are yours in working order?

As far as I know.

Good old.

Back in a jiffy.

Whoever stole the parish records must be
involved with Chastity's murder and

tried to hide something in the past.

But why tear out the pages? Why not take
the whole volume?

Too big? You'd be spotted.

I put a 24 -hour watch on the beach.

Nothing so far. I'm convinced we're
dealing with a disciple of Black Jack

Briggs. Did he have family? Friends?

There was a brother, I believe.

And I think his mother died shortly
after he was hanged, but I can't

It was all such a long time ago.

He must have been a babe in arms.

I do believe you're flirting with me,
Inspector.

Why don't you call me Henry?

I don't recall ordering that.

I'm just going over the wedding plans,
madam.

When you've finished, perhaps one of you
would be kind enough to remove the

snake.

Snake? In my hotel.

Whiskey, Henry?

Well, all that remains is to thank you
all for coming.

Please, help yourselves.

I was very moving service, Vicar. You
did your daughter proud.

Found to get out sooner or later. The
results of the post -mortem.

Chastity Baines was expecting a baby.

Excuse me. Constable?

Have you no sense of discretion?

I just wanted to pay my respects.

What do you know about respect?

You defiled my daughter.

If you know what's good for you, stay
out of my way.

I know what you're all thinking about my
daughter.

Well, he that is without sin among you,
let him first cast a stone at her.

You did frame it. How lovely.

What a wonderful crowd.

I caught it.

Will you catch one for me?

I'll try.

And more paintings by Chastity.

I took the liberty of looking upstairs
to search her room, madam.

She seems to have had another admirer,
if that's the word.

If lust is a sin, I am damned by my
desire for you.

I think I should know.

An anonymous note written on a
typewriter with no E.

And an entry in Chastity's diary the day
she died.

11 p .m. L .H.

L .H.

Left to hate.

So how many other people do you know
with the initials L .H.? Told you I

write that note.

Then you won't mind if we take some
fingerprints from this.

And check that the letter E's working
properly, will you?

All right.

So I had a soft spot for the chat today.

There was no harm in that.

Did you tell your brother's fiancée
about this soft spot?

Or merely write her unpleasant letters?

I've never been good with a lady.

Where were you the night she died?

Man in a Lloyd house.

Karma the poor boy has.

I should imagine the reason for it
stemmed from his childhood.

And he is involved in the cult.

Why didn't the inspector arrest him? For
writing a letter.

The rest is circumstantial.

I beg your pardon, I thought you were
finished. I'll wait outside.

Oh, no, no, do join me.

You're Mr. Vocation, George. You're
getting good at this.

Praise indeed, sir.

I, um...

Took the opportunity to root around in
Chesterty's locker.

I found this.

£100.

Must be the legacy your daughter
mentioned.

But the vicar said there was no legacy.

So where did Chesterty get this?

Another piece of the puddle.

You clicked.

I'll have a glass of port while we wait.

I thought you liked whiskey.

Pick up the port habit in the army.

Regimental dinners all night.

I imagine you'd look very well in
uniform.

Would you like a taste?

Mrs. Quincy says she might just offer
you a part -time job.

I might just take it.

Didn't hear a thing. I just turned
around and there he was.

Right behind me.

Wearing a robe and a hood. He knocked me
out cold.

Next thing I know, I'm coming round on
the beach.

That thing round me neck, like a noose.

I said some prayers in my time, but
never like last night.

I'm glad you came.

You can advise me on what to do about
being burgled.

Oh, when?

The day of Chastity's funeral. The odd
thing is they just took some of my

correspondence.

Anything important?

Well, yes and no.

Have you heard of misbehaviour in the
Gazette?

Yes.

Well, I am misbehaviour. Rather an
unusual sideline, sir.

Well, I like to think that I can help
people, and it's a very useful way of

finding out what's going on in the
parish.

I hope I can rely on your discretion.

Of course.

But why would anyone steal letters for
your column?

No idea.

These... These are some of the printed
ones.

Dear Miss Behaviour, my wife and I have
been wed six years, yet to this day I

remain a complete stranger to coition.

To who?

The marriage is unconsummated. I fear I
may die without ever knowing the

pleasures of the flesh.

Ah, yes.

The Plex of Horth Carrick.

Lester Hicks? No wonder he'd leave for
the lighthouse.

Now, hold on, madam. Are we saying that
he's married, but he's now had...

relations? Not even one?

Not unheard of. A deep anxiety, a
physical problem. Whatever the reason,

poor man must be in torment.

How did you know it was Lester?

Aren't the letters anonymous?

The silly fool signed his. People often
slip up.

Like your daughter.

She wrote on notepaper from Quincy's
hotel.

Ah, temperance.

She's very pleased with herself, Mrs.
Bradley.

She has a present for you.

Caught it herself.

Thank you. Very.

These are the pages from the parish
record.

Where did you find them?

Well, this would explain the blocked
plumbing at the hotel.

The thief must have flushed these pages
away, forgetting they'd re -emerge

sooner or later.

Totally illegible.

And still thoughtful.

Might have been.

Might have helped us find out what
happened to your sister.

Why?

She's copied out some pages of the Paris
record.

It's about my copyright.

Lots of it, too.

Eureka! The legend of Beelzebub's
virgin.

This may not be suitable for young ears.

A temperance. Some tea, I think.

Bear with me. I'm translating from the
Latin.

Exactly 200 years ago, a cult began
right here in Porthcarrack.

On the eve of her wedding, a young woman
is found dead on a beach, shorn of her

hair... Strangled by a worsted viper.
The culprit is tried, hanged. A

blacksmith. Mr.

Edmund... Briggs.

Leader of a cult called the Ophidian
Brotherhood.

Ophidian. Something to do with snakes,
madam. Um, serpent -like?

Briggs' last words were, at the twelfth
hour of the virgin death, darkness shall

hold dominion over the beacon of light.

And he predicts his execution will be
avenged on the anniversary of his death.

July the 3rd. The day Chastity died.

Some lunatic strangled an innocent girl
to commemorate this gobbledygook.

But she wasn't innocent, was she? Not in
the sense of being a virgin.

So, a second virgin sacrifice has to be
found. Lester Hicks. But he survived the

attack. So now the strangler needs
another victim. Another virgin.

Oh, my God.

Dear Miss Behaviour, I'm soon to be
married and I'm worried about first

nerves. This is my setterly.

And if the vicar gets, so will the
strangler.

It's perfect.

Thank you so much.

It's a good job we're not so busy.

There. It's good as new.

I've just got something for you to wrap
it in.

She left some time ago. Straight back to
the hotel, she said.

Hello.

What are you doing here?

Right,

ladies and gentlemen.

She's been missing for two hours.

Before we start research, Cecily's
father would like to have a word.

Number one, thank you for helping.

Number two, it's my belief that someone
here knows what's happened to my

daughter.

When I find out who you are, God help
you.

Shall we go?

I just heard there's been trouble down
on the beach again.

Constable Sharp's been attacked.

There was a lookout duty at the cabin,
so they locked him out.

These marks are new.

Black cotton.

Let this be your guide.

If we place this between the crosses, we
should get a perfect fit.

A map reading with the uppermost point
indicating... The church.

Stop the car.

That wasn't there yesterday.

There's something in here.

and settle his hair.

Two possibilities.

One, he's taking her to the church.

Two, he'll bring her here.

Oh, well, let's just toss a coin, shall
we?

My money's on him bringing her here.

Why else build this pyre?

No. This is a trick to throw us off the
real scent. You could say the same about

the map and the church.

She's my daughter.

Very well.

You take the church. I'll stay here.

I should have seen this coming.

I could have warned her.

It's not your fault, George.

I'm her father.

I shouldn't have been chasing about all
over the place worrying about you and

the inspector and Worsted Vipers. I
should have been looking after my

What do you mean, me and the inspector?

Nothing, madam.

Nobody knows what's going to happen,
George, but I do know you're not to

We haven't been getting on very well
lately, have we?

It's not for me to say, madam. Well, I'm
saying it.

But there are some people who happen to
think we make a rather formidable team.

Oh, yes?

Yes.

And I'm one of them.

Me too, madam.

Just a fox.

Look. Ada Briggs.

1846 to 1900.

Beloved mother.

Of Black Jack.

Well, the date's fit.

And the grave's been well tended.

Probably by one of Black Jack's
disciples.

But if everything comes down to a Briggs
family link, then how do we explain all

this business with the Hickses and that
last entry in Chastity's diary?

11 p .m., L .H.

Lester Hicks has to be the last person
who saw her alive.

Unless...

LH wasn't a person, but a place.

June the 2nd, PL.

Potted lobster.

June the 10th, QH.

Quincy's hotel.

All the places she's painted. July the
3rd, LH.

At the 12th hour of the virgin death,
darkness shall hold dominion over the

beacon of light.

Thank you.

Don't even think of running.

I know who you are. No one else could
have stayed ahead of me every step of

way. Is Cecily all right?

Yes, thank God.

And who will you thank?

When you go to the gallows for the
murder of Chastity Baines...

Who will have mercy on your soul?

What a battle royal this has been.

Fought with military precision as befits
a military man. Isn't that so?

Good of you to worry about my soul, Mrs.
Bradley.

But I have all the salvation I need.

When you asked me if Jack Briggs had a
family, you already knew the answer.

If that's so.

He was your brother.

Not just my brother.

My hero.

My guiding light.

And the day he died, the light went out.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

They hang Jack on Christmas Eve.

It's a good name, Christmas, don't you
think?

Good alias for someone starting a new
life.

Someone who thinks every day about what
you did to his family.

Mother loved it here.

Heaven on Earth, she called it when we
were kids.

Summer holidays.

Just me, Jack and her, the three of us
against the world.

Why?

For the brotherhood.

For our Jack.

And then you turned up. Like a bad
dream.

I knew you'd cause trouble.

But I didn't anticipate George making a
nuisance of himself.

Finding Jake's alibi.

The closer you got to the truth, the
harder I worked to keep you at bay.

I knew the results of the post -mortem
long before Chastity's funeral.

All I could think was...

Who else?

But when Lester survived, I was forced
to find another victim.

Hello. It was her destiny. The
unchallengeable will of the Athenian.

Oh, stop this charade. Darkness shall
hold dominion over the beacon of light.

And spare me the grandiloquent nonsense.

Who are you to call him? Murder dressed
up as ritual sacrifice in order to

disguise a tawdry truth. At the twelfth
hour of the virgin death.

Listen to Mrs. Bradley. The Ophidian
Brotherhood. I said listen.

Goodness knows how, but Chastity found
out you were Jack Briggs' brother.

A shameful family secret hidden for
years.

She blackmailed you. That's how she got
the hundred pounds.

Inspector Henry Christmas.

Brother of a madman. A murderer.

How would that go down at Scotland Yard?

What would happen to your hard -earned
reputation?

No MBE, that's for sure.

Just exposure and disgrace.

Believe what you like.

It's not a question of what I believe.

I know.

What I know is my brother was ill.

He needed help.

But he got the gallows.

You did that.

My mother died of a broken heart.

Your mother died of shame.

How dare you?

Your mother, the girls your brother
killed were all innocent victims of

madness. But you are entirely sane.

And as such, nothing but a common
killer.

It seems like yesterday that Cecily was
a baby.

Dad!

But today she's Mrs. Ronald Quintney.

A wife.

And what is a wife?

Well, the best definition I know is a
woman who stands by her man...

Through all the trouble he wouldn't have
if he hadn't got married in the first

place.

Stephanie, Ronald, all the happiness in
the world.

Ladies and gentlemen, if you'd charge
your glasses.

The bride and groom.

The bride and groom.

I've lost.

I

wouldn't

presume to offer advice to the happy
couple. But if I did, I'd strongly

patience. Tolerant. And above all,
separate bathroom.

Be kind to each other.

Thank you, madam.

Are you all right, George?

Never better.

Someone appears to have left a rose.

I believe you said you liked a splash of
color about the place.

Thank you, George.

Thank you, madam.

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

please call 1 -800 -255 -9424.

On my mind, plenty to do, but I can't
find all the time to spare for you.

Only for you, I work quite a lot.

Busy all day, but still I've got all the
time to spare for you.

When others have an hour or two, they
sigh and wonder what to do. But I just

find myself with you content.

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