All language subtitles for Bookish.S01E05.Such.Devoted.Sisters.Part.1.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-RAWR_track3_[eng]

So... can you use a gun?

Well, I prefer fists.

Who will I be fighting?

Our enemies.

Have you ever been to prison?

Why d'you ask?

The terms you're willing to take.

What did you do?

My pals saw something in a shop
window they wanted.

So I drove into it.

- It's called a smash...
- Smash and grab, yes, I know.

I do read the papers.

Says here you've recently worked
for a film actor.

- Yes.
- As his bodyguard?

Amongst other things.

But before that, in this...

bookshop?

Why did you leave there?

I didn't care for it.

And you're happy with this...
this arrangement?

Well, Book has his life.
I have mine. It works.

I'm... I'm amazed more people
don't do it.

I knew him.

Your father, I knew him
before the war.

You knew him?

Jack?

Er, this is...

I can't. I...I can't!

Jack, where are you going?

But your previous
employer trusted you?

Yes.

Despite your history?

Because of it.

Perhaps.

And should we trust you?

Well, I suppose you'll find out.

When the next assassin comes.

Nora...

I never did it.

Never did what?

Made shillings out of ice
and put them in the meter.

What's all this corrosion then?

That's rust.

Yes, it is.

Cold, isn't it?

We could burn a few...

- No, we couldn't.
- Not even a Georgette Heyers?

No! Really, Nora, for someone so new

to the pleasures of reading,

you're fast becoming a terrible snob.

What is it?

Feels quiet without him.

God bless the Walsingham,
and all who sail in her.

Ugh!
Oh, God. Can you just...

- Ooh!
- Oh, bloody hell!

Oh...

Do... do forgive me, my dear.

I...I seem to be in a state
of advanced refreshment.

Oh, I had noticed Victor.
Just stay... stay there.

- I'll fetch a cloth.
- Uh...

Cigarette, Sir?
Dunhill or Capstan?

Sir?

Can we talk?

Thank you.
Thank you, Sir.

Here. It's for him.

Oh. Thank you.

Please enjoy.

- Not enough lemon juice.
- Too much ice.

And I did not like
the way you... shook it.

- Too violent.
- Mm-hm.

- Huh.
- Of course.

Excuse me.

They think I'm too violent.

It's a violent art.

Good thing I didn't waste
any gin on them then.

You're a quick learner.

I'm glad
you've fallen on your feet.

I had no idea you'd be here.

We haven't seen you in weeks.
How are you?

Look, I haven't got long.

What... what d'you want?

Oh, Jack.

This is silly.

We miss you.

We both hoped you'd found a safe
berth in Archangel Lane.

A home.

Book and me, well, our
arrangement is unusual, I know,

but as I said to you,
when we first met...

- Love is where it falls.
- Mm.

And how does my father
fit into all of that?

Hm?

One of Mr. Book's
little dalliances, was he?

Well, Book needs to talk to you
about your father properly.

Look, our marriage protects us both.

Don't we have the right to be happy?

Happy? What, gallivanting off
into the night,

him with God knows who, and you...

Trottie!
Get me that cloth, damn it!

Is that the latest, is it?
Fella with the mustache?

He's Captain Orr.
I knew him before the war.

Oh. Dreamboat of the officers'
mess, was he?

Mm. Something like that.

Listing slightly now, though, eh?

Trottie!

You don't half pick 'em.

Mrs. Book.

Well, we'd better not
keep him waiting.

'Scuse me.

Oh, come to my room
and help me dry off.

I'm wet, woman! Give me
the damn cloth. Come on.

Get your ruddy hands off me!

I won't have it! For shame.

Oh dear, Sir.

Oh, you've had a right mishap.

-Who's this?
-Wet trousers are against

the dress code, you know?

This is the Walsingham, so why
don't you go back to your room,

take the wet pants off
and have a little lay down?

I have never been so insulted.

I'm sure you have been.
Fella like you.

Ah, Victor Orr, my old friend.

I can't leave you alone
for five minutes, can I?

Bloody girl
can't take a joke.

Sit down. Er, can
we have a couple of those?

What... what do you call them?

Walsingham Sours. For the two ladies.

For their royal highnesses,
you mean.

These are on me, ladies.
And may I say,

you are looking superbly
Balkan tonight.

I salute the House of Scutari.

Whichever Commissar
lives in it now.

Take a good look, Trottie.

That's what happens to you when
you get dethroned by the Reds.

- Oooh!
- Ooh. Oh dear.

Allow me.

So embarrassing, I do apologize.

Not at all, not at all.

Look after the pennies,

and the pounds will look
after themselves, what?

Okay...

Ah, now then.

I, er, had a bit of luck
on the horses.

You, er, you know Ascot?

Very well, Sir.

How was the going?

- Oh, er, good to firm.
- Hm.

After this, shall we, er...

Mm, normally my favorite ellipsis,

but I just think we should call
it a night now, Victor.

Oh, Trottie. You're no fun anymore!

It's amazing how different
things can look

without the benefit of the blackout.

Here's to Joe Stalin's next stroke.

Tinkety-tonk.

Victor!

This is a Deutschmark.

Yes.

This is Chinese.

Oh.

And this... is a button.

It's a very nice button.

Nora, have you been taking
shillings from this tin?

No.

Remind me, what's the price
of a green Penguin crime novel?

- A shilling.
- A shilling.

Ah.

That's better.

Ah, success.

Oh...

- Ah!
- Oh, it's you.

You ready to commit an affray, Miss?

No Sergeant,
she was just, erm, browsing.

I hate to seem inquisitive,
but why are you here?

There's a chap been killed
at the Walsingham. Poisoned.

Dead in a pile of pound notes
on the floor of the River Bar.

Oh! That's just our sort of thing.

Don't get too excited.
The inspector wants a book.

Er, G Book, esquire.

There's some foreign
royalty involved, it seems.

He says, er, do you have anything

on the Balkan rules of revenge,

specifically the Kanun of Scutari?

How too, too ridiculously obscure.

- Do you have it?
- Almost certainly.

Mm.

- And er, 504, he says.
- 504?

Room With A View, hm. It's
alright for some, I suppose.

- Mrs. Book's already checked in.
- Why?

Oh, er, she's one of the suspects.

Trouble in paradise, is there, Sir?

Hoh-hoh, what a beauty.

Yes. Might be one of those clues.

We like those.

- D'you mind?
- Yes.

Do people really say,
'What's your poison?'

when... when they're at the bar?

No idea. I don't get out much.

What d'you mean?
Look, we're at the Walsingham.

So's he.

Oh, yeah, let's er,

let's get him somewhere
more private, yeah?

Yes...

Not the main entrance,
please, Inspector.

I'm sorry we can't be more discreet.

May I suggest the service corridor?

Ah, yes. Yes, thank you Mr. Kind.

Oh, nothing to stop you

reopening the bar tomorrow, I think.

Thank you.

- Good evening, Sir.
- Good evening.

- Do you have a reservation?
- No, my wife does.

Your wife?

Mrs. Book. Have you seen her?

I'm afraid she may be distressed.

- Oh, Book.
- Oh...

504, Freddie.

Er, no, I'll keep this one,
thank you.

What's happened, darling?
What's this about a corpse?

Why have I been scouring my stacks

for books on Balkan blood feuds?

Oh, I'm not proud of myself.

There was champagne.

A day at the races,
Riddle-me-Ree in the 2.30,

cocktails, more cocktails,
and then...

Trottie, we live our own lives.
That was always the deal.

Self-flagellation is never helpful,

and not nearly as much fun
as someone doing it to you.

- Who was he?
- Victor. Orr.

- Or...?
- With two Rs.

Naval captain, married.
I'd met him before,

in an air raid, '41.

He er, made a pass at me in...

- in...
- Where?

Please don't make me say the f-word!

- Foyles.
- Yes.

- Oh, Trottie.
- I just fancied a good time.

Well, there's nothing wrong
with that.

But he turned out to be
the most awful bore.

- Where is he now?
- In the morgue.

Ah. One last night on the tiles.

And there's something else.

Book. Thank God you're here.

- Are you ready?
- For what?

To interview royalty.

It's a little irregular, isn't it?

I don't care. They terrify me.

I'm not going in there alone.

Haven't you taken their fingerprints?

I got Morris to do that.

I may be a coward,
but I'm not a fool.

I have our primary text.
The Kanun of Scutari.

Ooh. Looks expensive.

Will it pay for our suite, Inspector?

Oh, the late captain had taken
care of that, Mrs. Book.

You're in the room
next to the princesses.

Oh, what are they like?

Oh, they're glamorous
and are sort of disappointed

in a stateless kind of way.

Hm. Perhaps it's time I kept
a closer eye on them,

and an ear too.

I shall use one of those little
glasses they keep by the sink.

So, will this help us
find who done it?

It's a book of customary laws
for remote mountain communities

without a magistrate or justice.

The village elders consult
the text and then tell you

how much raki to provide
for your daughter's wedding,

what to do if your bees escape

and build a nest
on your neighbor's land,

- that sort of thing.
- Huh.

And who you're allowed to kill
if somebody killed your cousin.

Ah.

Huh-huh-huh.

And what language did you think
it was going to be in?

Well, we've three native
speakers on the premises,

but they're all suspects.

Who's the third?

Oh, he's a rather good-looking
cocktail waiter.

Well, don't fret too much.

The dutiful Teutonic scholar
did publish

a translation of it into German.

Ah well, you... you certainly
speak the German.

- In his sleep, sometimes.
- So where is this translation?

Nora's looking for it now.

Must be somewhere in the law section,

or social science, or etiquette.

Or propping open a door.

You said there was something else?

Yes. These princesses have been
giving gainful employment

to one of the capital's dispossessed.

Oh yes.

I know.

And there he is.

I'll, er, turn down the bedspread.

Sergeant Morris will be along
soon to take a statement.

Yes, of course.

I...I'd be grateful, Mrs. Book,

if you didn't leave the hotel?

It's perfectly alright, Inspector.

You have to do your duty.

Here to see their royal highnesses.

Enter.

Oh, Dog.

Where is it?

Green, straight-grained
Morocco-bound folio

with a lot of academic
monographs bound inside.

Slightly foxed,
according to the catalog.

You're no help.

Der Kanun des Scutari.

Ooh! What would I do without you?

Time for a little chat, Mrs. Book.

Pouffe.

I...I beg your pardon?

I apologize for it.

That we have sunk so low.

Remember the great banqueting
table, Ruhije, hm?

Chairs made with birch,

as silvery as the snow
on the mountain tops.

Upholstered with damask so soft.

Oh, we've been in more awkward
situations than this,

- haven't we, Inspector?
- That we have, Book.

So, which is the policeman?

You? Or this... Book?

Well, he's taking notes for me.
Helping with the...

Er, Pitman's shorthand.
So useful.

Tall and red-headed.

Like the poppies of our homeland.

I realize that this will be
very difficult for you...

your r-royal highnesses, er,

but if there's any detail
you can recall, however small,

it may help us discover
who killed Captain Orr.

That is easy. I killed him.

Sorry, you... you did what?

It is true. I switched the glasses,

he drank the poison
meant for one of us.

We have a routine, my sister and I,

to cause a distraction.

I salute
the House of Scutari.

Whichever commissar lives in it now.

Take a good look, Trottie.

That's what happens to you

if you get dethroned by the Reds.

- Ooh!
-Oh. Oh dear.

So embarrassing, I do apologize.

Not at all, not at all.
Look after the pennies,

and the pounds will look after
themselves, what?

It is a habit.
A necessary precaution.

Like this.

This was the third attempt
on our lives

since we left New York.

There was a steward
on the Berengaria.

'Can I turn over your room,
Madame?' So transparent.

And that Salvation Army
woman outside the opera,

shaking her tin box. Huh!

She denied everything, of course.

Who d'you think is trying
to kill you?

The Communists, of course.

Erm, but they already have
your palaces, your estates.

Our summerhouse on the Adriatic.

There is a lake there.

When the rising sun touches it,
it is like the blush...

In the spring, our country
was proclaimed

the People's Republic.

They want... what's the expression...

'A big finish'. Huh!

Hence the bodyguard.

And how are you finding him?

As he failed to prevent
an attempt on our lives,

I would say he has not covered
himself in glory.

Don't the Communists
also have your other sister?

- We do not speak of her.
- Senije, yes? The youngest.

- She renounced her title.
- We do not speak of her.

Red scum. She betrayed
her birthright, her country,

her family.

- Take it.
- Thank you.

Of course, if this does
turn out to be the case,

then your switching of the drinks

will not be without consequence.

We are used to being pilloried.

We will take whatever comes to us.

Right, right.

Now then, in your statement,
you said something about

this murder being written about
in the Kanun of Scutari.

What does that mean?

It means that a killing like this

follows certain customary principles.

It means the first thing you must do

is arrest the cocktail waiter.

- Ismail Guzili.
- Guzili.

- Gu... Gu... Guzi...
- Guzili.

- Guzili.
- Why?

He's from the mountains.

These people know
the rules of revenge.

They are obsessed with them.
You must arrest him.

And you must bring in any others
on the staff.

Other moun... mountain men?

- Yes!
- Yes!

Well, thank you so much.

This has been...
this has been most helpful.

So, you will do as we say?

- No. I will not.
- Why?

Because, Princess,
I am not your subject.

And in this country, a man is
innocent until proven guilty.

Whatever altitude he was born at.

You know, sometimes, Inspector,

you make me proud to be
from the gutter.

Never really thought of myself
as a republican.

Well, it's the war, Book.
Changed us all.

I never really thought
of myself as a Jew.

Did you ever come here
during the Blitz?

They had to let you in
if there was a raid on,

even without a tie.

We used to come down
to the lower bar,

it was known as the 'Fruit Cellar'.

There was quite the mixed grill.

Hello, housekeeping.
Can I change your towel?

You did nothin'.

You're supposed to be my boyfriend,

and you did nothin'.

Eadie, what do you expect me to do?

Nothin'.

Was he the one from this morning?

Yeah. Came at me
in his silk dressing gown

with everything pointing north.

His name is Captain Victor Orr.

Not anymore.

- They already gave me a warnin'.
- What?

Yeah, apparently shouting
at lecherous customers

isn't the Walsingham way.

I'll speak to Mr. Kind.

It was Mr. Kind
who gave me the warning.

One more black mark
and I'm out on my arse.

I hate this place.

You know...

I was doing okay here.

At least I thought I was.

What's the bloody point?

Eadie, I...I'm sorry.

You know, my dad was right
about you, Ismail.

And I should've listened to him.

Leave me alone.

What?

Ah...

Careful, officer.

My friend borrows his
jazz mags from the maître d'.

Oh, you can't shock me, Sir.

I've been to the Windmill
Theatre and seen those gents

with the newspapers on their laps.

And brought a few into the station.

Been jazzing with this one, Sir?

No, no, that lot put me right off.

Oh, you hate your royal family,
do you?

They're not my royal family.

They've been nobody's
royal family since 1940.

Ever since they left us
with that chap.

Hey, Marco, what was his name?

Mussolini, mate.

I knew you'd know, mate.

Righto, Sir.

Confiscating this as evidence.

You enjoy this, don't you?

It's just work, Sir.

Keep your temper, eh?

Suppose they usually
take all that aggression out

on the ice cubes.

- Book for Mr. Book.
- Oh.

It's the Kanun of Scutari.

It's Albanian.

Mrs. Book's out of the picture.

You can't be certain of that, Sir.

I've read her statement
and I'm satisfied

- it's nothing to do with her.
- But Sir...

I'm satisfied, Morris.

Clear?

So, you think it was one of us.

I don't think anything yet.

Signore Barberini.

Okay, well I've narrowed
it down to two.

A royal member
of the House of Scutari.

Nafije or Ruhije.

Righto. Method?

Poison. Something slipped
into the cocktail glass

after he tried it on
with Eadie Rattle.

That's the chambermaid, yes?

So where was she when
Captain Orr coughed his last?

- Gone already.
-Motive?

Can you think of any reason
why anyone

would want to kill
Captain Victor Orr?

Are you kidding?
That Captain was always here

with different women.

Usually in the same room.

504.

- Really?
- Mm. City view.

Noiseless bed springs.

Duchess rate for favorite patrons.

And that Captain has been
coming here for years.

- Usually once a week.
- Without a squeak.

You're very well informed.

No secrets
at the Walsingham, Sir.

We see all the dirty linen.

'Cause we have to clean it.

Some might say, Mr. Gaz... Guzili,

that it's the duty of a grand hotel

to make sure that the private
life of a guest remains private.

And some might say, Inspector,
that in a grand hotel,

people are usually at it
like cod in a bucket.

So it's a crime of passion then.

No.

I reckon the Captain
was something in intelligence.

During the war.

How do you know that?

They're a type.

Friendly, but... tell you nothing.

With a drink, they'll always have

what the other person's having.

So, er, why would the princesses
wanna kill a British spy?

Because British Intelligence
handed over Scutari

to the communist partisans.

And the captain recognized
the princesses.

Who are they?

Should I know them?

- Balkans.
- Same to you.

Hm.

Nafije and Ruhije.

Princesses of the Royal House
of Scutari.

Deposed by the Communists, and now...

drifting around the world
like flotsam.

Very glamorous flotsam.

Wasn't there a scandal?
They did a flit

and the bullion
from the National Bank

somehow found its way
into their hat boxes?

Something of the sort.

And?

They're drifting our way.

Your way, to be precise.

Oh, I see. In the market for
a set of dictionaries, are they?

They're staying at the Walsingham,

just down the road from you.

And, er, there have been...

letters.

Threats.

Vicious ones.

You should speak
to the Post Office then.

We'd be ever so grateful
if you just...

kept an eye on them.

I told you,

I'm just a bookseller.

And I to...

I reminded you

that we helped find young Jack.

It wasn't easy, you know.

Oh, it's you.

It's me.

Ta for... you know.

Ah, don't mention it.

Nuh.

So, does that happen
a lot then, does it?

Comes with the job, doesn't it?

'Can I do your nails, Sir?'

Wouldn't have killed him
for it though.

Somebody did.

Yeah.

So...

Which side are you on?

Sorry?

Which side are you on?

Well, what are the options?

Well, there's the management
in this hotel

who treat their staff like muck

and give a girl a mouthful just
for standing up for herself.

Right.

Then there's the workers.

Okay, well... the workers, then.

Nice to hear your expression
of solidarity, brother.

But it's deeds, not words,
that count.

Don't you think?

Right.

So why don't you go down there
to that taxi stand.

Get me a nice cup of Bovril?

I can't.

Er, look... maybe later.

I've just gotta get back.

To their royal bloody highnesses.

'Fraid so.

How does it feel?

Working for those parasites...

Is that what they are?

Well, what would you call them?

Sad.

I suppose.

Yeah, a bit sad.

Well, speaking for myself,

I'd line them up.

Shoot the buggers.

I can say a proper hello
to you now, Edmund Kind.

Good evening.

More than kind, I used to say.

Well, that's too kind.

They closed it, you know,
the lower bar.

The Fruit Cellar? Oh, what a shame.

Yes, for redecoration.

Though when the work will
actually start, I don't know.

Seems they prefer it mothballed,
the management.

You mean it's all still there,
the mural and everything?

Oh, yes.

Well, we could take a look,

if you'd like.

Oh, I should really be
getting back upstairs.

Of course.

I suppose a...

a little peep wouldn't hurt.

Now the question is...

will the lights work?

Don't remember there being any.

We never turned them on.

Blackout, I suppose.

No, no, they're just
terribly unflattering.

Oh yes, you're right.

Let's turn them off.

Just a soupçon.

If these walls could talk.

Kim Strang is dead, did you hear?

Kim Strang.

He used to keep his max factor
in a gas mask box.

Well, he'd been in Egypt, hadn't he?

Had to keep that tan up.

What happened to him?

He walked into the sea
at Shoreham, I'm sorry to say.

Somebody had his letters.

Dreadful, really.

Dreadful.

And you're very married, I see.

- Very, very married.
- Congratulations.

Thank you.

And thanks for your help
with the, erm, other matter.

Not at all. What does Jack know?

That my wife and I
have an arrangement,

that I knew his late father.

Nothing more?

He found that difficult
enough to take.

Ran out on us that very night.

Mm. Floated here.

Where he is gainfully employed,
thanks to you.

And able to keep an eye
on the other bodies

floating around the regal
Scutari ones.

Why do you need to keep an eye
on those?

It's possible they were
the intended victims.

Not the captain?

It's a working hypothesis.

Are you with the police now, Gabriel?

You always were a dark horse.

It makes up a substantial
part of my charm.

Christ, isn't that dangerous?
I mean, one false step...

I am all too well aware
of that, Edmund.

Although I do have a special
letter from Churchill.

Still, you probably
shouldn't be found

in a dimly lit basement bar, with...

A terribly handsome old friend?
Well, perhaps not.

Trouble with the grid?

Well, the Walsingham
isn't connected to the grid.

It has its own
oil-powered generators.

They bring it in by the barrel.

Everything depends on it,
even the plumbing.

And what's a grand hotel without
power and hot running water?

Well, I suppose it's just
a big building full of people

who are rather cold
and rather hungry,

and very, very rich.

I should get back.

Me too.

No big surprises
on the poison front, Inspector.

The deadly glass contained
boring old hydrochloric acid.

Oh, we can't all be virtuosos.

Virtuosi.

The... the thumb print,
enough for an arrest?

Enough for a hanging, maybe.

Okay, thank you. Bye.

Where's Eadie Rattle?

Oh, erm, I'll check.

- Very good.
- Sir.

Did the blessed sergeant
get everything

they required from you, dear?

Well, I took him through it
in exhausting detail.

Where did you get to?

I've been talking to the staff.

Oh yes, very nice for you.

The ones who served you
cocktails tonight.

Well, it was really only
the younger one.

- Guzili?
- If you say so.

Apparently, he poured a whole
round down the sink,

ice and fruit and all.

Could he have tampered
with the second round?

Yes. Nobody was looking
because of the brouhaha.

Brouhaha.

Yes. One of the princesses
dropped her reticule.

There was loose change
all over the floor.

Yes, I've heard about that.
And after the brouhaha?

Well, I dragged Victor back
to the bar, he made a toast,

and then there was the furore.

A brouhaha, and then a furore?

It was very confusing.

Oh, and er, there was a woman.

- A woman?
- I've just remembered.

She handed me a cloth.

Like Saint Veronica
on the Road to Calvary.

To mop up Victor Orr's trousers.

There was something about
the look she gave me.

Poor Victor.

People were recoiling in pure horror.

It was burning his neck out, Book.

You could hear the crackle.

I'm sorry you had a beastly time.

Ah...

I just wanted to get stinko

and wake up somewhere with clean
sheets and three egg omelets.

I wanted... something.

So I wanted him.

I do love you, Mrs. Book.

Ditto.

Book?

Yes.

We never really talk.

Talk?

About... the arrangement.

What's to talk about?

Well, to see that all's well,
that we're both okay.

All is well. Look, you left
a light on for me.

Mm.

I could've been making love in this.

In the dark.

Has anyone told Victor Orr's wife?

It's not like she was expecting
him to come home.

Do you know who she is?

I didn't really know who he was.

Still...

I suppose he did get us a night here.

- Isn't it marvelous?
- Mm.

- No clouds tonight.
- Hm.

Nowhere for the stars to hide.

We never really had
a proper honeymoon, did we?

Bit of a diary clash.

The Luftwaffe had their hearts
set on Eastbourne too.

The beach was very pebbly, anyway.

And covered in barbed wire.

Does it worry you though?
Disappoint you?

What?

The absence of landmarks,

declarations, grand gestures.

Oh no, Book.

In fact, I'm gonna make one now.

Oh yes?

Let's order a bloody
huge bottle of champagne.

Excuse me, please.

Got our papers,
stamped and signed. Tickets too.

Can't you do anything
discreetly, my love?

We have five minutes
till it leaves, platform six.

We can be in Paris for breakfast.

There are no Nazis in Paris
but there are croissants,

so it's all going to be fine.

I can't come with you, Book.

For the same reason
that you must leave.

Oh, and I must return
this to you, my...

my... my dear fellow.

I love a good book.

A beautiful book.

And how easy it is to...

to picture myself

on some winter evening,

in the country,

lying with this particular book.

It moves me so much.

But... but I'm afraid
I cannot keep it.

I know its frailties.

And some books get burned, you know.

And I should not like
to be responsible

for the loss of this one.

Because it is so dear to me...

that I know it by heart.

'Henceforth, wherever
thou mayst roam,

my blessing,

like a line of light,

- is...
- 'On the waters day and night'.

'And like a beacon guards thee home'.

- Mr. Kind.
- I'm doing the rounds,

explaining about the situation.

Be so good as to move around

a little less silently
to arouse suspicion.

Forgive me, your royal highness.
It's my training, you see.

It's mine too.

An engineer is investigating.

I do apologize for any inconvenience.

We are accustomed to hardship.

What are you carrying? Show me.

This is the Kanun,
the Kanun of Scutari.

- Why do you have this?
- I'm taking it to Mr. Book.

In the next room.
He's helping the police.

This is most interesting. Continue.

Well, he's a sort of expert witness

and he's staying here
with his wife. Who I believe...

I meant 'continue on your way'.

Goodnight.

Hm.

Oh, I thought you were a bottle of...

how dispiriting.

A book for Mr. Book.

- What is it, dear?
- It's that book you wanted.

Oh, very good.

The lights are on the blink up here.

An engineer is investigating.

I do apologize for any inconvenience.

Is there anything more
I can do for you?

Well, tracking down
our champagne would be nice.

Of course.

Extraordinary man.
Smells nice though.

Gardenia.

Capital, just what we need.

They're taking their time with
that champagne, aren't they?

I think they're having
trouble below.

With the generators.

You don't need champagne,
do you, Book?

- Well...
- Just anything with footnotes.

And a bibliography.

And maybe an erratum slip.

I used to love
this place, you know?

In the war, the rooms were cheap.

Thirty-five shillings a night.

Well, the ones nearest
the V2s, anyway.

Always plenty of life
down in the bar.

Bit too much, sometimes.

Now the Walsingham is listing.

Like an old ship.

Hm.

Well, I'd like to smash
a bottle against it.

Let me tell the story
of an old lady fair,

standing sentinel across the years

in the city's bonny square.

Let me tell the story

of a journey down to hell,

with the dear, dilapidated
Walsingham Hotel.

Some came to stay, to rest, to play.

Some came to labor every day.

Some came to sound the passing bell,

of the dear old Walsingham Hotel.

But who killed Captain Victor Orr?

Princess, waiter, maid, or more?

Who came to sound the final knell

for the dear old Walsingham Hotel?

Well, then...

That's that.

What was that?

Eadie!

- Eadie, are you okay?
-Oh...

Oh... oh my God...

One more step and I'll...