All language subtitles for 02 Murder at the Vicarage

Look brave.

Thank you, Captain.

Mr. Densworth?

Can't I come to the station?

I'm not that brave.

You can go.

My egg was hard again, Mary.

Blind the chicken.

Debbie!

Must you? On a Sunday?

Sorry, Uncle Len, but she's playing up.

You can't go to church like that.

Oh, I'm not anyway.

This could be a long job.

Mary! She won't hear you!

Can't even boil any.

She's all we can afford, you old misery.

You knew I couldn't cook when you
married me.

And you knew I was old.

Look at the time!

Morning, Miss Marble. Good morning.

How did you manage that, Griselda?

You'll be early for once.

I shall tell you this evening, Jane.

And bring some of your damned gin over.

Might take the edge off Mary's cooking.

is tempted when he is drawn away of his
own lust and enticed

then when lust hath conceived it
bringeth forth

sin and sin when it is finished bringeth
forth

death here endeth the lesson

Stop wriggling, Leather.

It's me.

Everyone calls you Leather.

You're not everyone, Lawrence.

Behave.

Don't forget where you are.

Daddy?

You should be on a calendar.

We could hang it in your father's study.

Get an eyeful.

Creeping around.

She's in her bathing suit.

Mr Redding's an artist.

It's like looking at a bowl of cherry
for him.

Till she takes it off.

Got an oily nose.

Last Sunday's collection in aid of the
Church of England Missionary Society.

A total of 18 shillings and 11 pence.

Well done, everybody.

Can't be right.

The Society benefits enormously from the
efforts we make in this parish.

And I have here a letter of thanks from
the secretary, which I'm sure you would

like to hear.

Dear Reverend... Yes, Marjorie.

There's something... There's
something... What?

Shh! What? Shh.

You are quite sure?

I always put a pound note into the box
on the anniversary of poor Bruce's

I know, but perhaps this time... Oh,
come on, Miss Marple. If Marjorie says

put a pound in, then she did. So where's
it gone?

Well, I thought you'd be straining at
the leash to sniff out the culprit.

You do have a reputation to maintain.

My reputation, Colonel Protheroe, if I
have one. How very kind of you to

I do. It's neither here nor there. I
merely wonder if it's a little early to

talk of culprits. Nonsense!

Anne, don't poor me.

Now, look, I'm a church warden, and I
was in intelligence. I know when

smells fishy, this could be just the tip
of the iceberg.

Vicar!

Jace, shall we try the Toby jug tomorrow
just for a change?

Good idea.

Where's Lettice this morning? Mr.
Redding's painting her.

On a Sunday?

You don't think?

He does have a way with him, but she's
just a girl. I'd come for an older

candidate if there is someone.

Don't forget, ladies, tea and scandal
tomorrow at 4 .30.

And I've invited Mrs. Lester.

I'm coming.

Perhaps we'll find out a little more
about her. Something would be a start.

Fancy staying at the Blue Ball.

Not very homely for her. Very well
stocked, if you take my meaning.

Tipsy at the jump.

Why,

the dear vicar had to choose such a
shallow wife, and at his age, too. I

to see a full set of parish accounts.

Or I'm going to take this matter
further.

Yes? Is that quite clear?

Yes. Tuesday, Dickridge, 6 .15 sharp.

Colonel, any news of your architectural
solution? Yes, Doctor. They arrived last

night. They'll be taking photographs,
making drawings, Lord knows what. Still,

one of the perils of owning an important
house like Old Hall.

Good day, Doctor.

What a dreadful, dreadful man.

walk, Daddy. No, get in.

How's the portrait coming along?

Perfectly well, thank you, Anne.

I thought he was painting you in that
pretty blue dress of yours.

Yes.

But today he was just doing my hands, so
I didn't bother to wear it.

What do you call in there?

Nothing. Let me see.

It's more artistic.

There's art and there's smut.

How dare he? And how... How dare you?
Shh, shh, shh. Don't shout, for goodness

sake. I'll fight my own battle. Thank
you, Anne.

I was thinking of our guests.

Good morning, Professor.

Do you have everything you need?

Thank you, yes. Your so charming
daughter was most helpful.

Stepdaughter.

Ah, la belle au bois dormant, c 'est
vrai.

Je m 'excuse, bon père.

Good morning.

Good morning, ma 'am, père.

Luncheon will be served at half -past
twelve.

My husband's very keen to hear about
your research.

We are flattered.

Entrez, grandfather.

Not as much as he is.

Permitting that sort of behaviour in
your own garden, Vicar?

No, I mean, it's utterly unacceptable.

Now, Mr. Redding's telephone number,
please.

Isn't it gorgeous?

Nothing quite so beautiful as an English
summer's evening.

For our hostess.

How lovely.

Well, not as lovely as that supper here.

Shall we?

Bless this food to our youth and us to
thy loving and faithful service,

nourished by the fruit of your earth and
by the work of human hands.

May we render you true obedience, O
Lord, and bend ourselves to thy will and

make us ever needful of the minds of
others.

Ever mindful of the needs of others.
Amen.

Well, I can only apologise.

Oh, the Colonel's always looking for
Nick Bute's criticised lens.

So I hope you're not painting Griselda
in a bathing suit.

Miss Marple, that's disgusting.

Thank you. Certainly not.

But you must come and see it soon, Mr
Clement. It's at that very interesting

stage. Like Dennis.

Pop over tomorrow, round tea time.

I will.

What is this, Mary?

Soap.

Does it have a name?

Bits and bobs and odds and sods, and the
meat ration's been cut again, Soap.

Sorry, sorry.

You're a bag of nerve this evening, Mr
Hawes. Not just tonight.

May I have a glass of water?

Anyone else?

No, thank you.

It wasn't for my medicine, you see.

Don't worry, you can't catch nerves.

It's a wretched affliction I bear with
God's grace.

Talking of wretched afflictions, Ronnie,
Colonel Protheroe on Tuesday...

Can you get the parish accounts into
some sort of order?

I'll try.

I get strangled prothero sometimes.

May God forgive me. I'd stab him.

I'd poison him. I'd shoot him. You might
go.

He's so rotten to letters.

Just because he bought Old Hall, he
thinks these locals squab something.

You can't treat people like that now.
You're quite right.

And how would you do it, Miss Marple?

I never speak lightly of murder, Mr
Redding. I hate to tempt fate.

We're surely not in this lovely place.

We're all very ordinary in St Mary Mead,
but ordinary people sometimes do the

most astonishing things.

Do you really have a pistol?

Somewhere. It's German.

I liberated it.

Were you wonderfully brave?

Very well trained, but to get to death.

I'll clear in five minutes.

Fish and turnips show.

Mostly turnip. Oh, bring the apricot
chutney, will you?

St Mary Mead Vicarage.

No, Frankie, I can't.

But you'll have your mum there.

Who's the magistrate?

That'd be a two quid fine at least.

How are we ever going to save up to get
a... I'm very sorry, but you have

mistook a wrong number.

I forbid you to see him again.

He was only painting me. But I wish he
were doing something else with the

fuss you're making.

Don't be common. Well, don't be horrid
then. You've already driven the De

to bed because of your foul mood.

Well, you can go too.

Gladly.

We haven't been in.

Good night, Lucas.

The night is like a lovely tune.

Beware my foolish heart.

How wide the ever constant moon.

Take care my foolish heart.

When you're lost in the magic.

There are those who take a romantic view
of poaching, Tarrant.

I do not.

This time you'll go to prison.

Sir, you can't. All right, ma 'am.
Madam, sit down.

28 days.

I'll lose me job, you old bastard.

29.

Like Mary Mead Vicarage?

It's not fair.

Mary?

Go in now.

It's not just the difference in our
ages, Jane.

The vicar and his wife are perfectly
happy.

They'd be happier with a child, I think.

It would be their own.

I was with you when her mother died, and
by the time I married Lucius, well, she

was too old to think of me as anything
other than the wicked stepmother.

I get on her nerves, and I'm afraid she
gets on mine.

That makes him angry, even angrier than
normal.

Might you have a child of your own one
day?

No.

things have dwindled rather

neatly.

I need that dinner, Jane.

Not in his nature.

Thank you.

Sorry.

We all have to get things off our chest
occasionally.

Still, I married him for a kind of
certainty. We all wanted certainty after

war, didn't we?

I was settled for what I'd got.

Make do in men's.

Make do.

And at least there was one someone
tender.

But he didn't come back from the
fighting.

Jane, I knew you'd come.

I had to.

Oh, my darling.

There's our lift.

You'd better not keep him waiting.

Help me!

Are you hurt?

No. Oh, yes. It's a quarter ankle.

I'm so terribly sorry.

It wasn't your fault.

It has to support the sprain.

I have a stick in the car.

You might be able to hobble by tomorrow.

I don't want to be a hobbler, Dr.
Haydock.

Shall I make some tea?

Apparently, that won't be necessary.

It seems tea and scandal are coming to
us.

Oh, I am lost.

The small drawing room with the Flemish
tapestry and the magnificent ceiling?

Two down on the other side.

That's my father's study.

Heard me then. No, not really.

Want to go for a ride?

No.

Last year we... Last year I was 16.

Well,

I haven't seen Lawrence Redding in a
sports car.

He would if he had the money. And he'd
look so wonderfully.

What's yours?

See you tomorrow for tennis.

Oh, yes.

Tennis with Janet.

How did he get on?

A month and five, probably.

Mr. Redding, you should shut this away.

Probably.

Here's one for you, next time you're in
the blue ball.

You sure you don't want me to start
locking up when I go?

This is the heart of England, Mrs. T.

Fine, lock up the house, and you lock
out love.

Oh, my Lord, in her bathing suit.

The Colonel won't have liked that from
what I've seen.

Looks like he's got a poker up his bum.

At least one.

Will you be staying long in St Mary
Mead, Mrs Lester?

Sylvia, please.

I shall have to see.

We're not too quiet for you. Like a mill
pond.

But a change is as good as the rest.

A change from what?

Exactly.

My health is still to life, Miss
Hartnell.

If you'll excuse me, I must go and see
how Griselda's portrait's coming along.

I do hope you like it, don't I?

Goodbye. Bye. Good afternoon, Vicar.
Goodbye.

And what are you wearing for Mr Redding?

Just my dignity, Mrs Price -Ridley.

And a pink feather boa.

Really, Griselda.

I think I'll just refresh the pot.

Now, who'd like a stiffener in their
Darjeeling?

Oh.

Oh, I... Vicar.

No.

I forgot you were coming.

What are you doing with this

brother, O2?

Quite a busy boy with his brush.

She offered to come to London, but,
well, I came here to get away from it,

well, Anne wouldn't be suited to the
madness of my life there.

And I wouldn't want her to be.

Tired of it.

Tired of being wild.

You're quite wild enough for us.

I just feel that I've let you all down.

I've been happier in St Mary Mead than
I've ever been in my life.

Even my work's better, I think.

That's certainly less wild.

But you must end it.

I can't.

Then you should consider leaving.

Think of her reputation.

You are the only one who knows.

Yet. You only have to sneeze in this
village for someone to... Miss Bourne's

here about next week's flowers.

Oh, she's late. That's not like her.

Please, please think about what I've
said.

Old Hall, good evening.

Yes, yes.

Who's that say?

I'll have to give a name, madam.

What do you want, Sylvia?

To tell you something.

And see that stiff other lip wobble.

As if you were facing a firing squad.

Last cigarette.

Blindfold.

I'll manage the stairs by tomorrow.

Dressing gown?

Yes, please.

How was the portrait?

Hmm?

Oh.

A brief viewing.

Ah.

You saw.

I'm afraid we all did.

Griselda was horrified when I told her.

I have to bother her if she finds out.

I know he's a brute, but... Anne married
him.

And I believe in the sanctity of
marriage.

I'm so lucky.

She could have had anyone.

She chose you.

It's been the best three years of my
life.

Here we are.

Hairbrush, mirror and book.

Oh.

Is it a good read?

Bet your life it is, Padre.

Anything else from the dressing table?

Beautiful.

The perfect example for this period.

Yeah, indeed.

When are you going to publish?

Autumn is the next edition of our little
journal. Ah. It will be all English

country, Harvey. I will send you a copy
from Paris. I'll make a note of it.

How is France now?

France, ah, well, what do you say?

We are getting on our feet.

How was your war?

Bad things happened.

And yours, Colonel?

Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to
discuss my service.

Listen. Ah, good day to you.

I'll be back on the 5 .30 at a meeting
with Mrs. Ross -Harkins after court.

Aren't there any sales in Melchester?

London is London.

Well, don't buy too much.

There won't be too much.

Dennis is taking me.

What? Only to the station.

Oh. Bye.

Bye.

Oh,

look at this scratch!

Well, what about my wig? Well, you
weren't looking, you fool!

Mind another thing, I dare say. Like
those accounts.

What do you mean?

Well, we'll see what I mean.

Just make sure the picker has them for 6
.15.

He does have brakes, you know, this car.

Thank you.

Colonel. Colonel.

Melchester.

London.

I trust your garden shed will shortly be
restored to its proper purpose.

It has never had an improper purpose.

Clearly our standards are different.

Clearly, I'm glad to say.

I beg your pardon.

Why are you so dreadful to men?

He's a good, honest man who tries to set
an example of Christian charity.

Perhaps charity can begin too close to
home.

Return to Manchester, please.

Mr. Redding ran after the vicar, and
Mrs. Prothera had her shoes off, and I'm

sure you could see her bedding. When I
went to pay my paper this morning, Flory

Ranby said she wasn't at all surprised.

And of course... Miss Marple knew it was
someone older.

The colonel read a most apt lesson on
Sunday, then, had he but known it.

When lust hath conceived, it bringeth
forth things.

I have to put this right.

My parents want me to go to Kenya.

Help them manage the farm.

You could try for university next year.

Well, I would if I had something else to
stay for.

Dennis.

Apart from anything.

Well, you know, Daddy, money or
prospects.

Not out of two.

But you mean if it wasn't for him? No.

Well, who knows?

Can't we just be friends?

You can forget about Lawrence.

Uncle Len walked in on him and your
stepmother and he wasn't painting her.

Shall I be mother?

Thank you.

I do love her, you know.

It's not just about... Sex?

I keep thinking about what the vicar
said, about people knowing.

And I got a very strange look this
morning in the newsagents for Mrs.

Well, she's got wind of things.

The only reason Mr.

Goldworthy knew about his wife and the
GI was when he heard Mrs. Whale mention

the nylon stockings and the chewing gum.

I'll have to leave, you know, for Anne's
sake.

That's very brave.

Yes, well, I'll soon be over it.

You won't.

Not for a long while.

Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does
it?

Hardly ever, young man.

I'll tell the vicar now.

He won't be back from his court yet.

Nor will he.

There is something I could do for you,
Miss Marple, if you'd like.

It's the right decision.

Have you told her?

I need to find the words.

You will.

Well, you're very trusting.

I'm not that sure of myself.

I'll clear out the shed. Thank you for
letting me set up in that.

That was Griselda.

I never did finish her painting.

You're a very lucky man.

Look after her for me, won't you?

Anne, I mean.

Now, now, what are we going to do?

Be patient.

Old Mr Abbott over at Lower Farm, his
neighbour's telephone to say he's very

poorly again, so I won't be back by 6
.15.

Apologise to Colonel Protheroe and ask
him to wait for me.

I'll be as nice as I can.

I can still see it now.

His first day in the village.

It was one of those moments when you
know that nothing will ever be the same

again.

You reminded me of what might have been
in the days when I still hoped for

happiness. There can be happiness and
acceptance, you know. What can't change?

Can there?

Thank you, Jane.

What for?

For not judging me.

He'll be late.

Oh, it's all right. I'll wait.

You'll have to, won't you?

There's a sweet little crested wren that
likes this side of the woods.

Did Lawrence mention the future at all?

I'll go. I'll go.

Mary Mead, 235.

It was for me.

For you?

I'm wanted at the Vicarage.

Sorry.

Bonsoir, Monsieur le Professeur.

Ah, bonsoir, madame.

A beautiful evening.

For walking, though.

If only I could.

Oh.

Goodbye, Mr. Redding.

Goodbye, Emma.

Bonsoir, madame.

What do you think, Daddy?

You ask you anything?

Oh, une petite promenade.

C 'est tout.

If you're going back now, may I join
you? Yes.

Thank you.

A large one.

I've had a hell of a day.

Good evening, Mary.

Waiting to study for college. Here.

Here.

Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your
paths, guide me in your truth and teach

me. Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me
your paths, guide me in your truth and

teach me. What must I do?

What must I do?

Did you want to see me again?

Mr. Redding?

How's Mr Abbott?

Convalescing in Bournemouth.

Someone's idea of a jet.

No, no, no.

Detective Inspector Slack.

Leonard Clement.

I'm the vicar.

The collar's a clue.

Is the doctor here?

Yeah.

Then what's going on?

Half an hour to get.

Certainly no more than 30 minutes before
my examination.

Which was when?

Well, the vicar found him at just gone
quarter to seven. I'm only down the

Say, I got here at ten -two.

Almost spot on. Time of death about 6
.20 then.

Better than almost.

Give the man a coconut.

Dear vicar, I'm afraid I cannot wait for
you any longer, but must.

And that's it.

Crystal?

Yes?

Are these always open?

Usually, in this weather.

The vicar's called away with a bogus
message. Murderer comes in through the

garden. Victim writing note with back
turned.

That's how and when.

Just why and who.

The lady in the cottage with a view of
the back here.

Miss Marple, I need to interview her.
Would you tag along? These old maids

to get nervous.

If you're not quite sure of something,
I'll wait until you have a little think.

Did you see anyone enter the vicarage
around 20 past six?

Yes, Mrs Prothero.

Is that when you think he was killed?

It looks like it.

How's your hearing?

It's excellent.

So you would have heard a gun fired from
the vicarage? It's hard to say.

I did hear a shot about 6 .30 in the
woods, I thought, which is not unusual.

But whether one could tell the
difference?

What about this artist, Mr Redding?

Well, he looked terribly shocked.

I assumed he'd discovered the body.

Of course, he and the colonel... He'd
been painting letters

in a bathing suit.

Avant -garde, is that the term?

I don't believe it.

The vicarage? Yes, ma 'am. Anne?

Please, this is Ted.

Is it really true, Mr Hawkes? I heard it
on the stage.

Yes. I'm on my way to the vicarage.

Was there much blood?

How would I know that?

Do you think it was a crime of passion?

After all, Mrs Prothero and Mr
Redford... One occasion always has

but I don't think we could jump to any
conclusions. The colonel was not much

liked by anyone, was he?

I'm afraid not.

Of course, his appointment with the
vicar was hardly a secret.

Are there any secrets that Mary made?

Not yet.

I hope.

I want to talk to someone.

When was this?

Didn't Mary hear anything?

Her wireless was turned up full blast,
as usual. No, wait till I get there.

She did hear the Colonel sneeze very
loudly.

I'll be right there.

That's how, when and who.

Now for why.

Lawrence Redding's just walked into the
station and confessed.

And he's brought the murder weapon.

Good night.

Old Hall?

It's terrible.

We will leave on the afternoon train, of
course.

Has the police an idea of who could do
this thing?

I have.

It's the police, madam.

No.

Inspector, he can't. I can't.

Why does Inspector Flack think the
Colonel was shot at 20 past six?

He started writing a note to the vicar
saying he couldn't wait.

He put the time on it. Had he?

And the clock stopped at just gone 6
.20.

He knocked it off the desk when he took
the bullet.

Oh, dear.

I'm afraid I must put a cat amongst the
inspector's pigeons.

He was going on and on about his
daughter, which was just her silly

crush.

So I told him it was his wife he had to
worry about, just to shut him up.

Then he really started.

I thought about what I was leading her
to.

The Chief Constable sends his regards.

Isn't that lovely?

I have been of some assistance to him
from time to time.

You said... It's the clock.

I happen to know Mrs Clement put it a
quarter of an hour fast on Sunday to

improve the vicar's punctuality.

Well, wonderful.

Did it work?

Yes. I'm glad to hear it.

So either it was really five past six
when it stopped before the Colonel even

arrived for his appointment, or the
murderer moved the hands back to match

time on the note.

It still fits.

The artistic touch.

But Mr. Redding was in the lane at
twenty past six.

I saw him.

You may well have done, Miss Marple. But
he killed the Colonel at 6 .45.

Mary let him in. The vicar saw him
leave.

6 .45?

But I only examined at... And told me
that he died within the last 30 minutes.

At the most, I said.

6 .20 or a little before, yes. 6 .30, 6
.40 is a pinch.

But if Redding says he shot him at 6
.45, he's lying.

And doctors are never wrong.

I've got a confession.

And if the bullet that killed the
colonel doesn't match Redding's gun,

my handcuffs.

Sometimes the simple explanation is the
right one.

Last night's wasn't.

I'll have someone see you out.

If he was shot at

quarter to seven, why had he stopped in
the middle of a sentence at twenty past

six?

Anne. I had to telephone the police. I'd
like someone with me.

I killed him.

What time?

Miss Marble saw me go in at about twenty
-five six.

I just... I just hated him so much, I
shot him.

With?

His old service revolver. He always kept
it loaded and I took it.

You didn't have a gun.

It was in my bag.

You didn't have a bag.

There was nowhere else it could have
been, not in that dress.

St Mary made two... Yes, speaking.

Is that definite?

Right.

I don't like my time wasted, Mrs
Protheroe.

The bullet that killed your husband was
fired from Mr Redding's gun.

But he did it for me.

He didn't do it for anyone.

I released him half an hour ago.

He just happened to be carrying his gun,
which I don't believe.

And more important, and something that
you didn't think of, if the Colonel was

shot at a quarter to seven, why did he
stop the note like that at 6 .20?

Oh, yes.

But if it was his gun... Well, we'll
find out. He thinks I'm arresting you

murder.

Lauren.

Sealed with a loving kiss.

To my friend.

Is he allowed to receive letters when
he's not breaking rock?

He ain't doing hard labour.

Who would have thought?

It's a wedding.

Such a nice young man.

Nice enough to keep a gun in the house.

I blame that Mrs Protheroe. The way she
swans around.

She's in a magazine, the look of her.
She put Mr Regan up to it, if you ask

Excuse me.

My football pool.

You never know, I only just missed out
on a thousand pounds last week. Money is

the root of all evil.

I'll give it space in the garden.

Bye.

I better... I don't want to speak out of
turn, especially if it wasn't anything.

The police have released Lawrence, Mr
Redding. Have they?

And I wonder... This must be so
unsettling for you. I can't bear it.

I was on my way to the church, Mrs
Clement. Shall we pray together?

Um... I need to find Mr Charlesworth
before he closes for lunch. I need some

those... Oh, whatever you call them.

Good and sharp.

Mrs Protheroe was only out of my sight
for 30 seconds at most. Then she went

into the shed. Mr Redding joined her
from the lane.

He told me he was saying goodbye to her,
leaving the village. She must have been

terribly upset.

We stayed there for ten minutes or so.
Church clock.

Struck a half hour.

Came out again, meeting Monsieur Dufos,
who appeared from the footpath to Old

Hall. Then his granddaughter arrived.

Dufos? Yes,

of the Proderos.

You don't keep it shut away?

Yes, yes, I know, I know I should. Mrs.
Tarrant, who mucks me out once a week,

she's always telling me off about that.

And I never lock up during the day.

When was the last time that you saw the
gun before it turned up in the study?

Um, day before yesterday, Monday.

Did you recognise the voice on the
telephone? Wouldn't you prefer to go

rest your ankle, Miss Marple?

No, thank you. Did you recognise the
voice on the telephone?

No, it just said to come straight over
to the vicarage if I didn't want Lucius

to find out about us. A man or a woman?
A woman, I think.

Though it did sound quite faint as if
someone was holding the receiver away

them. So it could have been a man. Well
spotted, vicar.

Who knew you were at Miss Marple's? No
one.

Someone must have seen me arrive.

Watching me.

My husband's dead.

So you came through the garden and
looked to the French windows, then what

happened?

Yes, they were open, but I didn't hear
any voices.

I looked in and no one was here, so I
went up to the shed to see if I could

Lawrence. No one here.

That's impossible.

Did you come right in?

No, I just popped my head in.

It's the biggest aspergistery in the
world. If the Colonel was here at the

you wouldn't have seen him alive or
dead.

A drink at the Blue Ball, then you
return to see the vicar again about your

situation. And then what, the authorised
version this time?

I came in, he was dead, I saw my gun and
thought that Anne had finally had

enough, so I picked it up and I left.

Then you confess to protect her.

Then you return the favour because you
thought he'd done it. A very love's

dream. I bet you two are down the Odeon
every Friday.

Tell your guests I need to speak to
them. And don't think about leaving this

village until I say so.

Go.

Um... Excuse me.

You don't like Mr Clement, do you?

Nothing personal.

Vickers in general remind me of
marriage.

Ah, of course.

Of course what?

Miss Hartnell's cousin's maid is walking
out with a butcher's boy from

Melchester who delivers to your mother
-in -law.

Mrs Slack has been staying with her for
a little holiday, I gather.

A little two -month, six -day holiday so
far.

Oh, dear.

Of course, I've only got Mr Clement's
word about the bogus cult.

Surely you don't suspect him?

No. May I?

Please.

6 .20.

I'm afraid I cannot wait for you any
longer.

The Colonel was not the most patient of
men, but the vicar would only have been

five minutes late at 20 past six.

And Mary had warned him that he wouldn't
be on time when she showed him in.

6 .20.

The ink is, don't you think, blue -black
rather

than blue?

Yes, and the writing's smaller.

Thank you, Miss Marple.

I mean, that he could have been shot
after 6 .20 and the murderer just put

onto the note and then altered the
clock. The time when Mrs Protheroe came

and answered to her anonymous telephone
call.

And Mr Redding's gun was the murder
weapon.

I think they were being... set up as

pasties.

Patsies, it is.

Sorry. Sorry, I'll come back. I was
looking for some... You're exactly where

was killed, aren't you?

How horrible.

Do you know who did it?

Not yet, no.

Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith
the Lord.

Well, someone beat the Lord to it.

I need some water for my medicine.

Supposing he was killed at 6 .30?

Now, that would tie in with the shot
that you heard.

If it was from here.

Are you quite sure that the only person
you saw come in was Mrs. Protheroe at 6

.20? Through the garden, certainly.

I can't actually see the French windows
from my cottage.

The woods come right up on this side.

It would be a scramble if one was
determined, or if one came in through

hall, the Colonel, with death, so they
could creep up behind him. The hall?

No, no, because Mary would have let them
in the front door. Hasn't she told you

it's often left open?

Mary?

Is this wise? You're not exactly green
-fingered.

Don't fuss, darling.

Trust me.

And pass those scissory things, would
you?

Len? Sorry. Sorry.

Oh, daughter, you listen.

You have my deepest sympathy.

Oh, yes.

You know, you've got some paint on you.

That's been there ages.

I must have it cleaned.

You haven't seen a yellow berry?

No.

Sure, I left it in here last week when I
came to see Dennis.

I'm sorry.

You? Gardening?

Well, I have to do something.

What did you bring back yesterday?

Hmm? From London.

Oh, yes, London.

I couldn't find a thing I wanted.

Not like you.

Bye.

I had a man -to -man work with the
photographer.

He said it's... Shh.

Let me just look at you.

He'll start clearing it out tomorrow.

It's a shame.

He was on his way to getting me, don't
you think?

Was he?

Oh, you silly man.

Yes, he is charming.

Yes, he's like a breath of fresh air in
the village. Yes, I was flattered, but

no.

You are my husband, Len.

I would never deceive you.

There was a single bullet wound to the
back of the head, which I concluded was

the cause of death. Did you form an
estimate of the time of death, Dr

Between 6 .20 or thereabout, and 6 .40
at the latest.

Thank you.

I showed him in at 6 .15 and then went
back to the kitchen.

He wasn't half looking pleased with
himself, though.

Like the cat that got the cream.

Then I heard him give a blooming great
sneeze about five minutes after.

And the next time I see him, he was
dead.

Very well, Miss Hill, step down.

Did you know the Colonel meant her young
man to Pippin?

Frank Tarrant.

Lastly, Mrs Prothero, can you think of
anyone who might have wished your

harm?

No.

No one at all, I'm afraid.

Thank you.

Although... Yes?

On Monday, in Melbourne to High Street,
he was nearly hit by a motorcycle.

Are you suggesting this was deliberate?

Well, it didn't seem so at the time. I
just... I just thought I should mention

it.

I find that the deceased Colonel Lucius
Alexander Prothero was murdered by a

person or persons unknown.

Did you wonder about the motorbike? It
was just going too fast, I thought. He

did come very close.

He or she, one couldn't tell.

By the way, when the Colonel stayed late
in Melchester on Tuesday afternoon,

what was he doing? Meeting Mrs. Ross
Harkins, I think.

Hermione, Bishop's wife, and his fellow
magistrate, of course. Inspector, please

find out who did this. If someone tried
to make it look as if... Well, they must

hate Lawrence and me very much, and,
um...

Well, I'm scared.

Oh.

This will go outside the French window.

No one at the vicarage smokes.

Dennis, sneaking a crafty one?

No.

French.

Young men on leave a long time ago.
They'd bring them back from France.

When Monsieur de Fosse appeared on the
footpath, I wonder if he'd only just

turned into it from the woods.

Look, it's easy to imagine all kinds of
things after the event, but the simple

fact is... Murder is never simple.

We would be foolish, stupid, to ignore
any possibility.

We?

Did I say that?

I don't know whether to buy her a box of
chocs or kick away a stick.

I prefer the chocolate.

How marvellous that you're not in black.
It's so dreary.

Should I know you?

I want you to.

Who are you?

Ah, who is Sylvia?

What is she?

Let's have a little chat.

I made a walk along the footpath.

It is very beautiful.

Did you go into the woods, Mr. De Fosse?

No.

Footpath only.

When do you go back to France?

We have missed the good connection now.

Tomorrow, by the first train.

I might need to get in touch with you.

What's this magazine of yours called?

You'll have to spell it.

And the bishop and his wife get back
tomorrow.

Would you be so kind as to ask Hermione
to telephone me as soon as they get back

to Melchester?

Jane Marple.

It might, yes.

Very important indeed.

Anne, get the whore.

You'll have enough to set up on your
own. I'll help you look somewhere.

He's only been dead two days.

So? You hated him. Whoever killed him
did you a favour.

Did he?

It's true.

I'm going in.

Why did you tell Miss Marple you lost
your berry?

You had it at tennis.

Were you listening?

And you left before we finished our
game. And you went soon after. The

told me.

Yes. But you don't think I could have
killed your father.

You don't think I care enough about you.

I know who did it.

There you are.

Two birds, one stone.

Perhaps you could tell me where you both
were on Tuesday evening.

Together. We played tennis. And then we
went for a walk. In the woods. Oh, yes,

the woods. The long way round. Over
towards Muchbenham.

It was a smashing evening.

Wasn't it?

Hello, Tony. It's Joan Hargreaves.

I need a favour.

Is your place anywhere near St Mary
Mead?

I left the ledgers on the desk so you'd
have them to hand when the colonel

arrived.

You don't think the murderer took them?

No. I expect Mary's been moving things.

Were they all in order, by the way?

Mrs Price, Ridley's pound note had been
counted in with the jumble sale money. I

went back over the last six months and
everything balances.

As we knew it would.

Must bring a fourth sin and then bring a
fourth death.

I can't stay in here.

I don't know what to do.

Suddenly we just seem so distant.

What would you like to do?

Walk away.

Just the two of us.

into a crisp and snowy morning.

Then paint it.

The sneeze that Mary heard, that could
have been the murderer, couldn't it?

And Anne was there.

I just hope she's safe.

He's early, your friend.

Cool.

Bonjour.

The magazine you worked for went out of
business before the war.

Now, what have you got?

The silver?

My grandson, Henri.

He would have been my husband.

We met in 1943. He was in the
resistance.

And you, Miss Hargreaves?

Special operations.

I was dropped into France working with
Henri and his group.

The colonel? He commanded a desk in
London.

He betrayed him. He betrayed my
grandson.

Prothero section was responsible for
supplying the whole of our region.

Weapons, detonators and so on.

Early in 1944 he had to organise a money
drop.

Tens of thousands of francs in cash.

Henri and I waited at the rendezvous
he'd given us. But the plane went right

over and dropped the canister a mile
away.

Why? The rendezvous was false.

The money was picked up by a man called
Lacombe, one of our group who had known

Protheroe before the war.

It was simple greed.

After the war, they divided it between
them.

Lacombe and the colonel.

Lacombe made a confession to me last
year when he is dying. That's the proof.

Bank transfers, statements, Lacombe's
instructions.

What happened to Henri?

Lacombe had tipped off the Germans and
they came for us.

I escaped.

He did not.

He was tortured until death.

My grandson.

I'm very sorry.

So am I. So am I.

I'll tell you the truth.

I had to kill that son of a bitch, the
colonel.

Because of him.

And so I got my pistol.

I went to the woods, up to the vicarage,
through the French windows, and into

the study.

Yes, Mr. Dufas.

I was too late.

I was too damn late.

He was dead.

Are you saying... I'm saying he was
already dead.

Thankfully.

You're quite good at this.

I've had to learn.

Oh.

Oh. If what he told you is true, the
colonel was dead by 6 .30 when Monsieur

Dufault joined the others.

Only just if the shot you heard was the
murder.

Do you believe him?

Yes. But the interesting thing is what
Monsieur de Fosse saw in the study.

He described the gun as having a long
barrel, you know, like the old Wild West

ones. And he thought the note was a good
half page long, not just a couple of

lines. That is interesting.

I don't know how reliable he is, though.

He had just come in out of bright
sunlight.

And he is getting on.

You've missed a bit.

Oh.

The note.

Have you shown it to Mrs Protheroe?

No, actually.

She's at the vicarage now, I believe.

Funeral arrangements.

Neither have been his writing, not the
time or the word.

I don't understand.

You're not alone at this stage of the
investigation.

Do you have any examples of the
colonel's handwriting?

Yes, of course.

I found it yesterday under the deck.

It's not Griselda.

It's Anne.

Should I give it to the inspector?

Yes.

Sir,

I have a word.

How very unpleasant.

The verse?

To avoid fornication, let every man have
his own wife and let every woman have

her own husband.

The motorbike was stolen in the morning
and dumped soon after the incident.

Such a crude and uncertain way of
killing someone.

Unless it was just meant to frighten
him.

I must get on with my visiting.

I can see myself out.

We'll get back to Mrs Protheroe.

Hello, Miss Marple.

I was thinking about leaving this one.

Might come back and finish it one day.

When do you go?

I don't know.

Tomorrow or the next day.

As soon as I can clean out the cottage.

Back to London?

I was thinking about Ireland.

Put some real difference between us.

You'll find a new life in time.

But Anne won't, will she? I'll do my
best for her.

She's a good friend.

Thank you.

Thank you for everything.

I've been crying.

Pot and kettle, dear.

I have some things to discuss.

Not very clever to use your scented
notepaper.

Where are people's standards?

That's what worries me.

This young man, Mrs Clement, was seen
with in Melchester.

The cardinal said he was rather
handsome, and he gave her flowers.

Oh, I'm sure there's an innocent
explanation, but even if there

Really, Marjorie?

So ashamed, Jane.

What would Bruce think of me and Andrew?

But you sometimes get very lonely.

Yes. And Anne Prothero's standards, of
course.

You weren't to know the Colonel had been
murdered when you telephoned her at my

cottage, but even so it put her in a
very difficult position when she went

there. That wasn't me.

When's the funeral?

Tuesday afternoon.

I'm in London all morning.

I hope the trains are better than last
Tuesday. I had to catch a lift back.

The day of the murder?

Chaos.

Not a single train to St Mary Mead the
whole afternoon.

Every time we tell a lie, we are
offending God.

The heart is deceitful above all things
and desperately wicked.

Who can know it?

Well, God can.

He sees into our hearts and searches
them to give every man according to his

ways and according to the fruit of his
doings.

Let us then keep our hearts pure so we
may say with Paul,

I have lived in all good conscience
before God.

Oh, bad luck.

It wasn't luck. Someone stabbed my tyre.

Such a violent thing to do.

With everything that's been going on,
I'm terrified, Mr Redding. Well, I'll

you to your digs if you'd like.

Oh, yes, please. Would you?

Thank you.

Thank you.

Yes?

I want to live in all good conscience.

May I introduce you to my mother?

I know.

I know I'm not a very good advertisement
for motherhood. I don't want an

advertisement. Why did the Colonel
divorce you, may I ask?

I had a tiny, tiny fling.

I like parties and people, but Lucius
wanted to clip my wings.

He offered me an allowance in return.

In return for never seeing me again?

Until now.

It's taken me six years since my second
husband died to get my courage up.

Dutch courage, mostly.

I'm not very proud of myself.

You're here now, Mother.

I thought you were dead.

Never mind the hearts and flowers.

Look, when Prothero came to your room,
we have a witness.

Were you trying to blackmail him?

Lord, no, I'm very well set up.

I just told him I wanted to see my
lovely daughter, Latisse.

She's going to reform me.

You're all I've got.

She sees me in a cottage, baking jam and
knitting things.

As long as we can have an occasional
cruise, dear.

Lettuce.

May I have a private word?

It's it.

It is under the desk where your father
was murdered.

I knew it was her.

Tell the police.

That you put it there.

When you were pretending to look for
your berry?

She wasn't wearing those earrings on the
day of the murder.

Wasn't she?

Oh, Lettuce, it's me.

All right.

But I don't see what difference it
makes, Miss Marple.

She killed him somehow, so she could get
her hands on Lawrence.

Lettuce? What?

The red paint on your dress was new,
wasn't it?

You'd just been in the shed.

So?

I heard you were coming and I had to
hide.

I must have brushed against something.

It was magenta anyway.

Colour of passion, Lawrence says.

You know, Hermione, I'll have to tell
the police.

Thank you, dear.

When the Colonel kept his appointment at
the vicarage, he had just learnt that

Mr Hawes left his last parish under a
cloud. The Bishop kept it from the vicar

to give him another chance.

What had he done?

Fiddled the accounts.

Ronnie's tried to kill himself.

Dr Haylock's there, and he's found some
sort of statement from Colonel

Protheroe, accusing Ronnie... Accusing
him of stealing?

Yes.

I owe you a box of chucks.

Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does
it?

Hardly ever.

Nothing gets past you, Miss Marple, does
it?

Hardly ever, young man.

How clever.

How wicked.

The gas was full on, and that much
sedative would have put him to sleep

quickly. Another few minutes and he
would have cheated the hangman.

Note of conversation today regarding
Ronald Hall's curative St Mary Mead.

Previous embezzlement of funds, it's all
here.

Monsieur Defoe said the note he saw was
longer.

The accounts, he told me he'd left them
in the study.

Lawrence Redding can tell us his state
of mind. The landlady said he came in

with him and stayed talking.

Ronnie won, I wasn't sure.

I've got it, Inspector.

Lettuce was right.

Anne Protheroe did kill her husband,
Anne and Lawrence Redding.

They made themselves the obvious suspect
by ensuring their secret was out,

knowing that if their plan worked, they
would later appear above suspicion.

I forgot you were coming. Which, of
course, he had not.

Any more than Anne Protheroe chose the
Toby Jug just for a change.

Mr. Redding wasn't trying to run the
Colonel down.

Though it helped them muddy the waters
when Mrs. Protheroe mentioned it at the

inquest.

They were making sure I'd be a captive
audience for their little charade in a

ringside seat.

He must have had his gun with him then
and a silencer.

Monsieur Dufos, remember, spoke of a
long barrel.

It's the right decision.

Have you told her? I need to find the
words.

Then he made two telephone calls.

The first to get the vicar out of the
way by pretending to be Mr Abbott's

neighbour. Old Mr Abbott over at Lowell
Farm. His neighbour's telephone to say

he's very poorly again.

The second to my cottage.

St Mary Mead, 235.

We're all set, darling.

It was for me.

Sorry.

She knew I'd see she couldn't possibly
have a gun with her when she went into

the big ridge at twenty past six.

Which was when you shot your husband.

Coffee and cake, you said, when you
telephoned.

Where's Lawrence?

Under arrest by now.

The loud sneeze that Mary heard at 6 .20
was your silent pistol, Mr. Redding,

fired by Mrs. Prothero. But the shot at
6 .30 had me puzzled until Miss Marple

found what she did.

It didn't come from the woods or from
the house. It came from the shed.

So... She goes off with the dewflosses
and you go to the blue ball.

A large one.

I've had a hell of a day.

Then you return to the vicarage on the
pretext of seeing Mr Clement again,

knowing he wouldn't be back from his
wild goose chase.

Where's the son of the colonel? He's
here.

He is?

You remove the murder weapon and leave a
forged note with deliberate mistakes.

Different handwriting in different inks
on vicarage notepaper you'd taken

previously.

A shock to find a statement from the
Colonel, but it might come in useful.

You reset the clock, knowing it was
fast.

All to make us think Mrs Prothero was
being falsely implicated in her

murder.

And the Colonel's statement did come in
useful last night, didn't it?

As he now had evidence of a motive
enough to frame Mr Halls for the murder.

Oh, bad luck.

Calm down, Ronnie.

I'll mix your medicine and turn on the
gas as you drift away and leave the

Colonel's note by the body.

But murder, Anne...

For a stranger who reminded you of what
might have been.

He wasn't a stranger.

But I was right when I said that nothing
was ever the same again.

Lawrence, who didn't come back from the
fighting.

Except that he did.

Four years after he'd been reported
dead.

And by then, I was Mrs Prothero.

He found you.

He was too decent to try when he heard
I'd married.

I found him.

A magazine article about the rising
young artist back from the dead.

What did we do wrong?

You asked me that.

What mistake did we make?

When you came out of the shed with him,
you were the same woman.

You hadn't said goodbye forever to the
man you loved.

You could tell that?

You think I've never?

I lost someone in a war who got a medal
for dying.

His wife will have cherished it.

His wife?

Easier for you then, Jane.

He was dead.

You didn't have to choose between right
and wrong.

When you volunteered, darling, you made
a choice to do your duty.

Yes. I've had to make a choice too.

I've chosen to do my duty.

Come back safe.

But for your wife, not for me.

Jane, please.

If I can't come back for you, then
it's...

Jane.

Jane!

It was the apricot chutney with fish
stew that gave me an inkling.

When did you find out? My cousin called
this morning to confirm it. Of course.

He's that Dr. Melchester, isn't he?
Rather a handsome young man.

I didn't want to see Dr. Haydock.

We're, you know, village gossip.

And I wanted to be sure first.

She told me she'd come to London.

I never suspected a thing.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed
be thy name.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on
earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread, and
forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive

those who trespass against us.

Give us not this day, but deliver us
from evil.