All language subtitles for 02. The Big Four

Good Lord.

Later every morning, that loud hymny,
Marina.

It's grateful.

Is that the last of them, then, son?

I would have been quite happy to...

I wanted to write them myself.

Seems only right.

Old friends, you see, George.

Old friends.

Nice things.

A few words.

Really? Me?

Oh.

Well, I don't really... It's hard to
know what to say, isn't it?

Gosh.

My friends.

I am home.

To my master.

To our dear friend.

To Matthew Hercule Poirot.

God rest his soul.

I urge you to believe that I speak the
truth, that the world is in the grip of

sinister forces bent on tipping it into
chaos.

Beware. Beware the big four.

Secret societies, sinister plans for
world domination.

It's all a bit Bulldog Drummond. Don't
you think, Mr. Tyson?

At first, yeah, I did.

But I've had more letters since.

I think there's something in it.
Remember that locomotive that came off

rails? The Plymouth Express.

Of course.

My correspondent claims that was the
work of the big four.

And the riots in India. Local agitators.
Not according to these. A crank, young

man. The idea there's some sort of
organizing power controlling the world

very common fantasy amongst paranoiacs.

Mr. English.

I've been doing some research.

Mr. Typo.

We stand on the edge of an abyss.
Germany, Italy, a storm is gathering.

enough to worry about without some far
-fetched nonsense like this. Far

-fetched, is it?

Oh,

pardon, pardon.

I've been following your progress with
the interest most keen on mon ami.

You are here in the capacity
professional.

I'm not quite a spent force yet, Poirot.
They still wheel me out for the

occasional important assignment.

A lot of foreign bigwigs here tonight.

Mr. Ryland over there has requested a
discreet police presence in this chess

match. I must say, it's nice to get out
from behind a desk and stretch the old

pins again.

There won't be many more assignments
like this, I fancy.

Well, you know, time, it catches up with
us all, no?

Perhaps also for Poirot, the shadows are
lengthening.

And the moment it has come to think of
the life that is quiet.

You retire, Poirot? Never. You attract
mayhem. What was that done?

Who's the lady?

Ah, that is the great Madame Olivier.

Ah, right. One of Ryland's Peace Party
johnnies.

Maniola, isn't she? Come on. Belgian?
No.

She's French, not Belgian.

But in her field, she is the genius. Her
research into the nervous system, it is

truly groundbreaking.

Hmm. You might say she has the greatest
brain in the Western world.

The greatest scientific brain, indeed.

Of course.

Ah, well, excuse me for duty call.

Assistant Commissioner.

Oh, pardon me, sir.

Monsieur Poirot.

Madame Olivier.

May I introduce Stephen Painter of the
British Diplomatic Corps, an invaluable

supporter of the Peace Party.

A cause most worthy, monsieur.

And this is to remind me... Dr. Quentin,
Mr. Painter's personal position.

Quite the turnout, madame. You must be
pleased.

We have done it together, all of us.
Ladies, gentlemen, may I welcome you to

informal little soiree.

on behalf of our guiding light and
founder, Li Chang -yen.

Now, ill health prevents him from
leaving China, but he is with us in

We're all aware of the international
situation, at the gray pass at which the

civilized world finds itself, which is
why we in the Peace Party see it as our

mission, our duty, to avoid the lamps
going out once again.

One day, years ago, I woke up and I
realized that I hadn't a clue what to do

with all my money.

Tell her you got your money, Mr. Ryland.

This is an invitation -only event, sir.

You won't answer my telephone calls, Mr.
Ryland. How else am I supposed to reach

you?

This is intolerable.

Hey, what are you hiding?

Who would a big...

It seems that everyone wants to be here
tonight.

And why wouldn't they? To witness this
demonstration of unity between East and

West via this ancient and beautiful
game.

Now, I would like to thank our friend,
the Russian ambassador, for coaxing our

guest out of retirement.

May I introduce to you the illustrious
Dr. Ivan Savarov.

Dr. Savada, he is the greatest of the
Russian grandmasters.

You are not a player, okay?

Oh, Domino's is more in my line of fire.

Welcome, sir.

He's going on a bit. God, he's many
years since he's been seen in public,

mean... I warn you, sir, I may be an
amateur, but I won't be beat without a

fight.

That's always been my motto.

Well then, without further ado, let
battle commence.

Horn to King Paul.

Horn to King Paul.

Knight to King's Bishop, three.

Knight to Queen's Bishop, three.

Can I help, Monsieur?

I have some expertise.

I'm afraid it's too late.

It's done.

I had trouble getting this out of his
hand.

Brugge mortis, I expect.

I expect so.

If you please to show Poirot the
belongings of the old man.

I don't know what you're getting
yourself so broody about, Poirot.

You only had to look at him to know he
wasn't long for this world.

Not to record the little dick and
picker. What's that here?

Quelco is that?

What's that?

But the researches of Madame Olivier
concern the effects of atropine and

morphine and so on on the heart and the
nervous system.

Ah, so that's what she meant by
expertise.

My.

But alas, it was too late for her to
save him.

So, after all these years of being a
recluse, he agrees to travel halfway

the world for a publicity stunt.

I have no doubt that Dr. Suvarinov was
paid most handsomely. Ah, but why was

Ryland prepared to pay so much?

You again.

Yes, we were never formally introduced,
were we? Lawrence Boswell Tysel,

Associated Papers.

Come along, sir. What is your interest
here, Monsieur Tysel?

Something fishy about the old man's
death.

Dr. Savarinoff died of natural causes.

Really? Don't tell me the great Hercule
Poirot will bother with something like

this unless foul play was suspected.

If and when we have something to
announce to the press, you'll be the

know. Don't you say, Steve?

Your card's right. Maybe I can supply
you with the truth about Abe Ryland.

you in on the skeletons he's got hiding
in his closet and what he knows about

the Big Four.

What is this Big Four?

Ring me, Mr Poirot.

You won't regret it. Ring me.

Stop it, you terrible boy.

Flossie, I say, those boys are just
outrageous, aren't they?

Do you ever play Juliet, Flossie?

Yes. Quite recently, actually.

Oh. Right.

Oh, you're not reading that rubbish
again, are you?

Not rubbish.

It gives me the horrors, all these
rumours about another war.

Oh, I almost forgot. Reg asked me to
give this to you. Somebody must have

it at the state door.

Well, that's good for me.

Must be fan mail.

So open it, then.

Oh, even better, a valentine.

But it's April.

Oh, yes, but... Too flossy.

Never forgotten until we meet again.

For... kisses.

Well, who is it from?

Who doesn't say?

Is that

your

telephone?

Knew you'd come.

Can't resist a scoop, eh?

You'd have made a good journalist, Mr.
Poirot.

I think Poirot has the wrong kind of
morality for the work.

Well, it's a modest, I'm sure.

S 'il vous plaît.

Monsieur Tyson, you spoke of skeletons
in the armoire of Monsieur Rahn.

Armoire?

Oh, I see, in the cupboard.

Well, let me tell you.

Abe Ryland is not the man everyone
thinks he is.

Real name's Abram Ryakin, born in Kursk.

Appeared in America about 25 years ago.
The outbreak of the Great War.

Changed his name.

And voiced his whole identity.

So my question is, why?

What is it that you know?

And now he made his money.

Arms dealing.

He made millions selling weapons to the
Allies and the Kaiser.

You have proof of this?

Naturally.

And maybe he was planning on doing the
same thing again.

What is this big four that you
mentioned?

Certain information has been coming my
way.

Letters.

And what do they say to you? Well, not
so fast, no, not so fast.

I've shared my information on Ryland.
It's only fair you show a little

reciprocity, wouldn't you say?

What is it you want?

Full access to your investigation. I
work alongside you and your copper pal.

Monsieur Tyson, you seem to be a man who
is ambitious, who is creative, and

perhaps even with some level of
intelligence.

It's supposed to be a compliment.

But you are not a man of discretion,
monsieur.

We need to share information.

What would stop it from appearing in
your newspaper?

I'll have to play a lone hand in this
investigation.

That would be foolish, monsieur.

You would be wise to reveal what you
know for your own safety, if for nothing

else.

I don't respond to threat, Mr. Poirot.

Change of mind.

You know where to find me.

You've let Li Changyuan know what
happened last night.

I've telegraphed.

Then there is nothing more we can do for
now.

What is troubling you?

We have enemies out there, regime.

Those who seek to destroy both us and
our work.

And I've learned that in this life you
can only trust number one.

I had trouble getting this out of his
hand.

Read him more, T. Sykes.

Read Lopez.

Assistant Commissioner Jacques, s 'il
vous plaît.

Don't take long, gentlemen.

I'm a very busy man.

Who's your island?

Do you remember the exact succession of
moves made by Dr. Savaranov?

Of course. He used the re -Lopez
opening. It's the soundest in the game.

Savaranov was reputed to favor this?

Yes, so what?

If you please tell us, what was the
third move of the white piece in this

opening? Bishop to queen's knight five.

Bon. The exact move that sealed the fate
of Dr. Svaranov.

If you please to be patient.

This, it is the white bishop from the
chess set.

The exact piece that Dr. Svaranov was
clutching in his hand when he died.

They look identical, no?

Two white bishops from the same chess
set.

There is a rather thin metal which
passes up through this chest, ma 'am.

Et maintenant?

Observe.

The table, it is electrified.

And so when Dr.

Savaranoff... Places the white bishop
upon this particular silver square.

The electric current passes right
through his body, killing him instantly.

It was electrocuted. Oui, bien sûr.
Regard the table. It is clamped to the

so the current passes through it.

It is, en effet, the killing machine
most elaborate.

From where was it obtained, may I ask?
You'd have to ask one of my staff,

monsieur. I don't concern myself with
such matters. So you do not concern

yourself with the death of a man?

He was an old man.

Old men tend to die, in my experience.
From natural causes, yes. Not usually

electrified chess tables.

Now, you just listen to me.

If you truly believe Savarinov was
murdered, and in this colorful way

Poirot suggests, that's your
prerogative.

But if you are even suggesting that I
had anything to do with it, then you're

going to have to get yourself some
proof.

Hello. Could you put me through to Mr.
Titho, please?

He isn't.

No. No message.

Thank you.

Madam Olivier to see you, sir.

Please, Mr. Haringer.

This way, madam.

I shall come straight to the point,
monsieur.

You have seen this?

Ah. Does the great detective, monsieur
Eccles -Farreau, have suspicions

regarding the death of Ivan Savaranov?

His inquiries currently revolve around
Abe Ryland and his mysterious peace

party. Calm yourself, madam.

We have no evidence that Monsieur Ryland
is involved.

There are those who seek to discredit
all of us in the Peace Party, Monsieur.

I implore you, do nothing to aid these
people.

Excusez -moi, madame.

Hercule Poirot speaks.

Ryland was meant to meet some German
dignitary last night. He never turned

Comment?

He's gone for it.

He's disappeared.

Good afternoon, sir.

You must be Meadows.

This is the local man on the case,
Poirot. It's an honour, sir, and an

meet you too, Mr Poirot. Although I
don't know that there's very much to

interest you here.

Fairly grubby little murder, if you ask
me, and not too much doubt about who's

to blame, neither.

The victim was Jonathan Wally, something
of a recluse and a...

Sinopharm.

Yeah, whatever that is.

It means that he was a lover of all
things Chinese, mon ami.

Ah, and this is the reason for our
interest in this case, Inspector

late Monsieur Jonathan Wally was the
author of this biography.

You got the details of the household,
Inspector?

Well, there are two servants.

Robert Grant, who's the kind of man
-servant he lives in, and Betsy Andrews,

housekeeper and cook.

You've worked for Mr. Wally for some
time?

Oh, yes.

He was a queer old cove. Kept himself to
himself.

Added little obsessions like they all do
at that age.

Obsessions? Crackers. About all things
Chinese.

Did he ever marry?

Oh, no.

Oh, can you imagine it?

What woman would have him?

Woe betide you if you tried to move one
of his precious books or tidy up his

blooming letters.

Were there any other...

Friends or family?

Friends? No.

He had a sister.

He died.

There was a young nephew who came here
to stay with him when he was orphaned.

That was before my time, though.

By all accounts, they didn't get on.

Madame Andrews, can you tell to us
exactly what occurred this morning?

Precisement.

Grant went out to get the milk, as he
does every day.

I popped out to have a natter with Mrs
Stubbs at Laburnum's.

She's buried two children, poor soul.

And her husband's none too clever at the
moment.

And which of you returned first?

Oh, that will be Grant.

He came in by the back door, put the
milk in the larder, and then went

into his room to read the paper and have
a smoke.

So it was you who discovered the body,
madam?

There he was.

Poor soul, he'd been knocked silly and
had his throat slit.

Oh, nasty he was.

Very nasty.

So the story about Grant going and
fetching milk is through at least then?

What is it, partner?

Mutton, sir.

Still frozen.

There's ice on it.

You're not suggesting he used a frozen
leg of mutton to cosh the old gentleman,

are you, sir? And then cut his throat
with a wishbone?

What is the day, madame?

The day?

What?

Monday, of course.

Oui, oui.

To commit a murder on a Monday, it is a
mistake most grave.

Mr Robert Grant, he is in custody, no?
We've taken him in for questioning, sir,

yes. Grant's story was that he went
straight to his bedroom and that it was

Betsy Andrews who discovered the body.

But you see, then there's the matter of
the footprints.

Wally kept his most valuable Chinese
curios locked in this cabinet here.

And is it locked now?

Keys in the lock, sir. Mr Wally kept it
on his purse and on his watch chain at

all times.

Someone has removed it.

Mr. Wally was fond of boasting that his
most prized possession was a set of

little ivory figures that he kept in
here.

18th century, apparently.

And they're gone.

And this bloody footprint here... Oh,
begging your pardon, sir.

It's all right, Meadows. We know what
you mean.

Well, it matches exactly with Grant's
boot.

And the footprint which, if Mr. Grant
were telling the truth, he could not

made? Quite so, sir.

So, you now have the opportunity and the
motive. All that you require now is

that oh -so -elusive element, the proof.

The missing figures?

I have no doubt that you will find them
hidden in the room of Monsieur Grant,

probably underneath his bed.

How is he seeing you here, Mr. Poirot?

You seem to be everywhere at once.

May Pharaoh inquire what it is that you
do here?

The news of this crime, it has not yet
been released.

I'm here for the same reason you are.

Indeed.

Well, he knew something.

Something dangerous, that much is
obvious.

Has somebody got him out of the way?

And it was your source who once again
gave to you this tip -off?

I'm in possession of certain
information, yes. Well, well, if it

proverbial bad penny. Assistant
Commissioner.

I presume you can account for your
movements at the time of Mr Wally's

Death I'm called for.

Oh, we've got him now, sir.

Oh, it's to God I never did it.

It's a framework, that's what it is. I
came back and went straight to my room

like I said. I never knew anything till
Betsy screamed, so help me God I didn't.

If you do not tell the truth, then that
is the end of it.

But, Governor!

No, Monsieur!

You did go into the drawing room. You
did know that your master was dead. And

you were preparing to make a boat for
him when Madame Andrews made a discovery

so terrible.

Come now.

Is that not so?

I say solemnly, to tell to me the truth
now, it is your only chance.

Yeah.

It's just as you say.

What? Mr. Wally, I came in and went
straight over to the master.

And there he was, dead on the floor,
blood all around.

Then I got the wind up proper.

They'd ferret out my record, and for a
certainty they'd say it was me as had

done him in.

And the figures of ivory?

I'm just going to blame the murder on me
anyway.

The master had said how they was worth a
lot of loot.

I might as well go the old log.

Then before I could make a run for it, I
bet he was back and screaming the place

down.

You expected to believe all that, Grant?

You ought to be ashamed of yourself,
telling such bare -faced lies to an

important man like Mr Poirot here.

Mr Grant, when were you released from
prison?

Two months ago.

And how did you obtain your position in
the household?

Through one of them prisoners' help
societies.

The bloke met me when I come out.

He said this before, Poirot. There's no
record of any such society placing him

with Jonathan Waller. I swear it, sir.

He's a pastor, a priest.

Do you recall what he looked like, this
pastor?

No.

I'm sorry, sir. He just sort of looked
middle -of -the -night ordinary, you

know?

I'm afraid I must go ahead and charge
this man, sir. No.

If you do, Inspector Meadows, you will
charge the wrong man.

Mr. Grant, he's not the killer.

Thank you, sir.

I knew you'd believe me.

Sir, I've been thinking this over, and
it doesn't add up.

If it's not Grant, well, no -one else
approached the cottage all morning. The

neighbours' curtains twitch like
billiots here in Hopperton. If there'd

stranger coming to the house, well...
Well, you're not suggesting Betsy

Fargo will describe for you the killer
of Jonathan Woolley.

The murderer was a man who was clever.

Oh, very clever.

First he posed as a prison visitor.

Then he obtained a post for Monsieur
Grant, with the deliberate intention of

making him the scaping goat. Then he
gave to him a pair of boots, one of two

pairs that were duplicate, the other he
kept for himself.

Then he drove up outside the house in a
van, leaving it in full view. He entered

the house, committed a murder, wearing
the boots identical.

Then he drove away.

This man, he wore a hat of straw.

And his clothing was slightly
bloodstained.

But, Poirot, the whole village would
have seen him.

Oh, very dear. Everybody saw him. And
nobody saw him.

He drove up in the van of a butcher.

This leg of mutton would not have
remained frozen if it was delivered on

Saturday. No.

Someone delivered this leg of mutton
today. Moreover, someone on whom a trace

blood here and there would attract no
attention.

Blimey.

I'll get around and arrest the butcher
straight away.

No, no, do not trouble yourself,
Inspector.

The real butcher would have made no such
delivery today.

No. This is the business most dark, mes
ami.

And I fear we're only at the beginning
of a long, long game.

You cannot say you have not been warned,
monsieur.

I know.

That's why I'm here now. I'm putting
everything I've got in front of you.

It started with anonymous tip -offs.

Train crashes.

Riots. I went to Ingalls at the foreign
office.

Dismissed it out of hand.

Then the messages started to become more
cryptic.

Merci.

The game will begin shortly. A battle of
wits.

And then a king shall fall.

Beware, beware, the big four.

That arrived along with a dossier on
Ryland.

A king shall fall.

Yeah, obviously referring to the chess
game.

This was next.

Death will come to Hopperton village.
The dragon shall feast.

Jonathan Wally of Hopperton, he has
found that?

Someone on the inside was trying to tip
me off.

Someone inside the Big Four turned
traitor, and now they've found him out,

he's lying in a morgue with a knife in
his back.

Have you identified the deceased man?
No, nothing yet. There's someone else.

You did?

This was inside his coat pocket,
addressed to me just like all the

that's where you should have left it.
That's evidence.

Yeah, well.

Flame cart.

Ever came to him?

But the first one is of the origin
Chinese.

And on it there has been scored le
numéro un. Li Chang -Yen.

That's the B.

Brains behind the so -called Peace
Party.

De?

That's a chance card from a Monopoly
set.

You don't have to be a genius to work
that one out.

Ryland.

Le numéro trois?

Why does it say D, not Q?

Because he's from a French cracker
playing cards, mon ami. La dame, une

française.

Et finalement, from the major arcana of
the tarot.

Quatre.

C 'est le mort.

Death.

Mrs. Jack got dealt one like that on
South End Pier.

Gypsy Meg.

Three months later, the cat died.

One, two, three, four.

Whoever the dead man was, he was trying
to give me a clue to their identities.

What is it, Poirot?

Do you not observe an enemy? The edge of
his carpet is burnt.

A toast to our future.

All my love.

Four kisses.

You're going to miss your cue if you're
not careful, darling.

Arlene, we can't wait any longer.

Please, bring the gong for dinner.

You're asking too much of me, Regine.

What are you saying?

Remember our dream, everything we talked
about, all we can achieve. I don't

think I can go through with it.

I don't have your certainty.

I'm not like you.

It's wrong, what we're doing. It's all
wrong.

Still no news of Mr. Ryland, Madame
Olivier?

Nothing at all.

And it is also very damaging to the
party.

He should be protesting his innocence.

The newspapers are full of talk about
the big four. No, it is nonsense.

Quite.

It's true that there is bad blood
between America and Russia, though,

After Zvarinov's death.

I've been speaking with the Soviet
ambassadors. They're trying to calm

down, but... My husband's the
conciliator.

What would the world do without you, my
dear?

Let's hope we'll never find out.

I'll drink to that.

Oh, they're here.

I hoped they'd join us eventually.

He's really not that late, my dear.

So sorry, so very, very sorry.

Can you ever forgive me? I was out with
the chaps and time just ran away from

me.

You're on your own, are you, dear old?

I thought you were bringing Mr. Trothers
with you tonight.

Oh, good Lord.

So I was.

Well, Amelia would have sorted herself
out. I mean, she probably had a better

offer, what?

Or did I leave her at that blessed
party?

Oh, well. Well, you're here now, Gerald.
That's all that matters. Why don't you

sit down? So sorry. You must be la
grande dame, madame. Oh, Uncle Stephen

terribly highly of you. You were staying
for a few days, that's right.

I'm the black sheep of the family.

A pleasure to meet you, Gerald.

Oh, yes, remind me again?

Gerald. The name's Quentin.

Oh, of course, of course, of course.
Uncle Stephen Sawbones.

Terribly sorry.

You eating, Gerald? Well, Arling's
finest curry, rather.

Fill up the bowl, my friend.

Now, where's the wine?

Anyone for a top -up?

That's him, poor bugger.

Stabbed in the lower back with some
force.

Kitchen knife.

But observe me, Zimmy.

Despite all the efforts of the staff in
this mortuary to wash him down, the

dirt, it is deep, it is ingrained.

You've been on the run from the big
four. You're hardly going to stop and

tub, are you?

And yet you say his clothes, his evening
dress, they are of some quality, yes?

Very nice, yes.

A bit old -fashioned, like.

Well, he would like to see them.

So.

It's been so kind of Uncle Stephen to
take me on.

Don't you think, madame?

Indeed.

Cardinal returns and all that.

It was the least I could do for my
brother's boy.

It's all under the bridge now.

Family feud forgiven and forgotten.

I'm glad to have been able to make
amends in some small way.

It's curious, most curious.

Always. And the cloth, it is of the
quality most fine, and yet the fashion,

is of since 30 years.

No labels?

There's a fragment that he saw. A name?

Of a kind.

E -R -M -A -N.

Herman. German.

Maybe he stole the clothes, some kind of
disguise?

Oh, maybe.

We must discover the identity of this
man and find out his connection with the

Big Four.

Terrible way for a man today.

Righty -odd, if you ask me.

Why the fire?

I mean, it makes a face completely
unrecognisable. Do you think that was

intention?

I thought of this, but... No, there
seems little doubt that the dead person

Monsieur Steven Painter.

So, the killer comes into the room,
pulls him off the bed and drags him over

the fire.

Not the easiest way to kill a man.

Constable? There would have been a
struggle of tremendous.

And screams.

Screams which nobody in the house admits
to hearing. Who discovered the bunny?

Chinese manservant. Chinese, Poirot.

And Diana Painter, the wife of 30 years.

Smelt the smoke, apparently, from her
own bedroom.

Hello, Madame Painter. She does not
share the bedchamber with her husband.

Can you hear me, Poirot? 30 years.

To be honest, I think Mrs. Jack would
jump at this type of sleeping

if we had the room.

See you, Inspector.

The finger.

A clue must be his armour.

Ah.

Now, apparently, Mr Painter kept a
notepad, a pen and a bottle of ink by

bedside. And this is what he wrote last
night.

Dr Quentin, you were the personal
physician of the late Monsieur Painter?

That's correct.

Stephen had a heart condition, easily
managed with the right medication.

But it was thought prudent that there
should be someone on hand.

What has the state of mind been lately?

He'd been anxious.

All the stuff in the papers is enough to
alarm anyone.

And now Ryland's vanished.

It's a great blow to the party.

When did you last see him alive, Doctor?

Around 11 .30 last night. He asked to
see me before he retired to bed.

How did you find him?

He was very agitated.

I suggested a tonic.

But he said he just wanted to get to
bed.

One final question, if I may, Doctor.

You'll see.

Do you recognise this man?

Vaguely familiar.

For what reason?

He's something to do with the Peace
Party, I think.

I met so many people through Stephen and
his work that I really couldn't say for

sure.

No, I don't know him.

Try to think carefully, Madame.

Perhaps you met him through your late
husband and his work?

Stephen rarely thought to include me in
his work, Matthew.

I'm sorry I can't be any more help to
you.

We do not wish to distress you, Mother.

I loved my husband, Monsieur.

But I realized some time ago that my
affection was no longer reciprocated.

Last night, I learned for certain what I
had suspected for some time.

That he... That he... That he and Madame
Olivier...

We're conducting the love affair.

How did you... This Poirot had observed
at the chess tournament.

I am so sorry, madam.

And did you hear any kind of disturbance
in the night, Mr. Painter?

Believe me, after the amount of booze I
put away, it's a miracle I woke at all

this morning.

Dead to the world, I was.

Oh, dear.

Sorry.

Are you sure I can't get you anything?

Bit early for me, sir.

Thank you all the same. It would be for
me too, usually, but, you know.

Poor old Uncle Stephen.

You hear about these kind of freak
accidents happening all the time.

I feel a shock when it happens to one of
your nearest and dearest. You think

then that this was an accident?

No. Well, what else could it have been?

How did you and your uncle get on
together?

Well, I don't feel I had the chance.

To get to know him properly.

I've only been here a few months.

Is that so?

Yes, Father and Uncle Stephen fell out,
you see. There'd been an incident when I

was only a nipper. And do you know the
nature of this incident?

Well, this.

A firework exploded in my face.

And Father always blamed Uncle Stephen.

I don't even remember it, of course, but
they never spoke again.

So he gets a tidy thumb as a result of
Painter's death.

And the manner of his death, so violent
and dramatic.

The fire that consumes the face of
Monsieur Painter, an echo grotesque of

burning of his own face.

And as he lies dying, Monsieur Painter,
he dips his finger into the ink and

scrolls the letter G onto a notepad, a
final desperate attempt to indicate the

identity of his killer.

Gerald did it for revenge and for the
cash?

No, no, my name.

A false murder.

With a connection to the Peace Party and
the Big Four? No.

This is an attempt, most crude, to frame
young Monsieur Gerald.

Well,

I suppose we better have the big one in.

I shall do all I can to assist you.

This is a terrible loss for the world
and for me personally.

Perhaps you can assist us, madame, with
the identity of this man?

He's not known to me, monsieur.

Then... Perhaps you should take a closer
look, madame.

My eyesight is excellent.

I can assure you I do not know who this
man is.

Madame, we understand that before dinner
last night you and Monsieur Painter

conversed in private.

Yes, we talked of the future of the
Peace Party.

That's a lie.

Mrs. Painter, please.

I may not have your world -class brain,
madame, but I have sense enough to know

when my husband is conducting a love
affair behind my back.

Diana. He wanted to finish it with you.

And your pride couldn't bear it.

I heard him.

It's all wrong.

I can't go on with it. That's what he
said.

I wouldn't be surprised if you killed
him rather than let him come back to me.

It is not true.

Monsieur, surely you cannot believe it.
We believe, madame, that we are dealing

with an organization so ruthless that it
will not hesitate to execute any who

stand in its way.

If you know anything at all about the
Big Four, I implore you to tell it to

You accuse me, monsieur?

There is evidence to suggest, madame
Olivier, that one of the members of the

Four is a woman.

A French woman.

Gentlemen, I find your accusations.

contemptible and absurd.

You will try and prevent me if I leave.

No, I can't do that, madam. You're not
under arrest.

You have not heard the last of this.

Not by any means.

We should not have antagonized. It is
not yet the time.

I can't go through with this.

It's all wrong.

Maybe he wasn't referring to their
affair, Poirot.

He was killed because he wanted no more
to do with this organization.

So sinister.

Where the hell is this going, Poirot?

We've got nothing to go on. Nothing.
There must be a link, mon ami.

A connection, however abstruse, between
these cases.

Something that we have missed.

The link's obvious, Poirot. It's the
ruddy peace party.

If what Tyso's mysterious source told
him is true, then they're exactly the

opposite of what they claim to be. Fifth
columnists working to start a war, not

prevent one.

Pharaoh must think.

Assistant Commissioner Japson. Poirot,
she's gone.

Gone? Who has gone, madame? Madame
Olivier.

She's done a bunk too, just like Abe
Ryland. No one's seen hide nor hair of

since she left Painter's place.

And there's something else.

We've had the test back from Painter's
body. He was drugged. That's why he

didn't cry out when his head was put in
the fire.

The drug was very specific.

Gelsamine.

Gelsamine?

No. What is it?

You recall the scientific researches of
Madame Olivier?

They are concerned principally with the
nervous system. In small quantities,

jasmine is used to treat the heart.

In large quantities, it induces
paralysis and immobilization of the

system. Well, that confirms it. She's in
on it, too. It would appear so.

Such an eventuality, it is tragic, no?

To think that it is possible that such a
woman... Never mind that.

We're making progress at last.

We've identified number three of the big
four.

You'll find everything exactly as it
was.

Until you catch the fellow who done it,
I'm not allowed to touch a thing.

And there remains no word from the
nephew of Monsieur Wally? He does not

to claim his inheritance?

No. Not that I'm surprised.

I mean, who'd want to live here knowing
what had happened?

I wish he would show up, though.

There's boxes of junk just sitting up
there.

Madame, he said before that he and his
uncle, they did not get on.

So I gather, before my time, as I say.

And what became of him, Madame?

Oh, lived here till he was in his
twenties, I think.

And then, oh, maybe he went off and
joined the circus.

Just give me a shout when you're done.

Merci, Madame.

No, not again.

They're for you.

How lovely. My darling Flossie, soon our
time will come

for kisses.

Of course, there's no grace about the
profession these days. These young

and actresses, they can't project.

They're used to speaking into a
microphone for the wireless or for the

pictures.

The profession can be a very cruel
place, especially when the first bloom

youth has gone.

Did you go to the theatre, Mr Poirot?
Oh, yes, indeed.

Oh, well, then you must have seen me.

I got wonderful reviews for my Eliza
Doolittle.

A confident and dazzling Miss Flossie
Munro.

Well, I did The Importance of Being
Earnest at the vaudeville in 26. I had a

great success with that.

Perhaps something more recent.

More recent?

Well, let me think.

I was at the Duke of York's a few years
ago in Cher, my cab.

Yes, indeed.

This proud did see.

What did you play?

The accordion.

For some years, you appeared in a
repertory theatre company, madame?

Mademoiselle. Oh, pardon.

Mademoiselle. The Mathieu de la Place.

Yes! I wondered you know about that.

Oh, they were happy times.

I have been speaking to some of your
fellow actors, and they tell to me that

this company, it closed down not long
after that season. Yes, such a shame.

thank you.

Merci.

Does the name Albert Wally mean anything
to you?

Wally?

No, no, I don't think so. Why should it?
No, it appears that he was a member of

the audience very devoted to the
Methuselah Company. In fact, he

mementos from the repertory season in
1924.

Oh, a fan, was he? Oh, really, Mr.
Poirot. You can't expect me to remember

my admirers over all these years. No,
no, no.

I mean, for instance, only this... past
few weeks, I've been sent all sorts of

things. Cards, flowers, champagne.

All from an anonymous admirer. Vraiment?

This arrived just the other day.

A valentine in April?

Yes. I thought it was queer, too.

But you know what some of these fans can
be like.

You permit Poirot, aussi?

Merci,

mademoiselle.

Until we meet again?

Hercule Poirot speaks.

Oui, monsieur.

An interview, it is possible?

What is your address, monsieur?

What a difference a few weeks make.
Quite so.

I sent away that journalist fellow that
flees here.

Now it seems he was right after all.

Bulldog Drummond come to life.

And the best of men lies dead.

Monsieur Poirot was a brilliant man.

Lord knows we could do more like him at
this moment.

Is there any hope for peace, sir?

The big four business has the entire
international community on edge.

Do you have anything concrete to go on,
sir?

Nothing.

Li Changyang put out a statement denying
any knowledge of the Big Four. Well, he

would, wouldn't he?

And Ryland and Madame Olivier are still
nowhere to be seen.

What about Number Four?

Indeed.

How does one track down death himself?

Why, Ronier, if only we could find out
what knowledge he took with him to his

grave.

He always liked things.

Just so, didn't he?

Quite. He was on to something, wasn't
he?

He had to be.

I only wish I knew what.

I've been so wrapped up with all these
new leads that have been coming in.

Poirot seemed quite content to go off
and pursue things on his own.

I suppose he must have grown quite used
to that.

Yes, I suppose so.

One thing we know for certain.

He was getting too close to the big
four, so they eliminated him.

Yes.

Well?

Well? Well, hang it all, Jab. What are
we going to do next?

Eh? We can't let Poirot die in vain.
We've got to stop them. Now, hang on,

Captain Hastings. We can't be faint
-hearted now, man.

Are you with me or not?

For Poirot's sake, together, we have to
stop the big four.

Listen, these people mean business.

They'll stop at nothing. If even Poirot
couldn't stop them... Good Lord, man.

I never thought I'd hear such conchy
talk from you.

Well, if you won't do anything to stop
these brutes, then I certainly will.

And I'll leave no stone unturned. Good
day.

So... What do I do now, old chap?

Good old Hastings.

Old soldiers never die, Mr. Japp.

Sir?

Yes, George, what is it?

Uh, Telegram has arrived for you, sir.

For me?

audition? It's funny, I was just talking
about this place to someone the other

day. It's great to be back here after
all this time.

I'm not late, am I? Your letter did say
four.

Help. Help me.

Please.

What's going on?

What do you want with me?

Welcome, Miss Monroe.

Welcome to the lair of the Big Four.

Oh, my God.

You've heard of us.

How gratifying.

Talk to me, Miss Monroe.

Tell me all you know about the Big Four.

I don't understand.

Why... Waiting, Miss Monroe.

You wouldn't want to disappoint me,
would you?

I only know what I've seen in the
papers.

What have you read in the papers?

Well, it's all run from China, isn't it?
Number one.

Go on.

Then there's that American with all the
money.

Number two.

Continue.

Please. Continue.

The French woman.

Madame... Madame Olivier.

Number three.

And number four.

Tell me what you know of number four.

Nobody knows, do they?

Are you number four?

My darling, it has been some time.

Do I know you?

All my gifts.

The cards.

The roses.

They didn't bring back any memories.

You're my admirer. You're my fan.

Think, Flossie.

Think back to that season at this old
theatre.

Fifteen years ago.

We performed together on this very
stage.

Claude.

Claude Darrow.

Is... Is it really you?

It is, my love.

What is all about, Claude? Is it a joke?
Is it just a silly joke?

No, my dear, it's serious.

Deadly serious.

I adore you, Flossie.

Don't you realise that?

I'd do anything for you.

I've done so much already.

All for you.

Do you remember what you said to me on
that day?

What day? It was years ago, years.

I can never forget it, you know.

I asked you if I could take you out to
dinner and you said... Oh, Claudie,

be so ridiculous.

It's like advising someone like you.

You're such a funny little shrimp,
aren't you?

No. I deserve the best, Claudie.

Someone who's going to make something of
himself.

Someone the whole world will remember.

Someone the whole world?

I was young, wasn't I? I mean, I was
young and foolish and full of myself.

well, the whole world will remember me
now, won't they?

The whole world will remember the big
four.

Lee Chang -Yen, Abe Ryland, Regine
Olivier, and me, Claude Darrow.

Number four.

The destroyer.

Death himself.

You mean you've done all of this?

All of this.

Just me.

Tell me you love me, Flossie.

Tell me you love me.

Help me.

I think you're the most remarkable man.

Let me take you away from here.

Just... Just one thing to take care of
first.

I think not, monsieur.

Oui, monsieur.

Despite the best efforts of the Big
Four, Hercule Poirot, he

lives.

You're dead.

Dead and buried. No.

It was all smoke and mirrors.

Is that not the expression?

But now it is time to bring down the
curtain on the big four.

I rather think that that will be my
decision.

All right, Poirot, the game's up.

You've pulled off some stunts in your
time, Poirot, but this beats them all. I

should say.

I have much to explain to you, mes amis,
but first, if you please, mademoiselle.

Come on.

I think you'd better sit down, sir.

What about these two?

We'd do something in case they... What's
the matter with them?

One moment, mon ami.

What a path in which we find ourselves.

The world stands on the brink of a
conflict most terrible.

And what do we discover is behind it
all?

Tormenting suspicion on a scale that is
global.

The cabal most terrifying.

Puppet masters who threaten to plunge
the world into war.

And yet, and yet, what was the first
reaction of anyone

who was told of the Big Four?

That it was like something from a
storybook, n 'est -ce pas? Bulldog

Precisement, Monsieur Tyson.

Precisement. Because that is all it is,
mes amis.

Mere theater.

The Big Four are not real.

No. They exist only in the crazed
imagination of one man.

That's not possible. A man who had
plunged the world into chaos because of

passion that is unrequited.

Who is later to take on the stage name
of Claude Darrell.

And who, for the past few months, has
been masquerading as... Dr.

Quentin. But what about Li Chang -Yen?

Anita? Li Chang -Yen is as innocent as
he claims. And these poor, unfortunate

souls are merely pawns in the game.

Kidnapped and kept here, their
disappearance is orchestrated to throw

onto them.

But why don't they say anything?

Because they are drugged, mon ami.

Drugged with Gelsamine.

Good grief.

No, eh?

The same drug that was used to
anesthetize Stephen Painter before he

Oh, they are fully conscious.

But their physical paralysis, it is
complete.

But mercifully, it would appear in this
case, the effect, it is only temporary,

mon ami.

Everyone believed it, though.

Didn't they?

The big four?

Fleet Street?

The police?

The great British public?

Oh, oui, monsieur. For some time, even
Hercule Poirot was taken in by your

charade so deadly.

With your help, of course, Mr. Tyson.

What?

I just had to wind you up like a
clockwork toy and off you went.

You and your little newspaper.

Spreading fear, confusion, hate.

An emotional soup pulsing.

You really have been a most useful ally.

But my informer.

The letters.

The playing cards.

All pens from Monsieur Darrow. So the
fellow who turned up with a knife in his

back? In reality, a tramp dressed in a
theatrical costume.

The clues of the playing cards planted
upon him.

Reality, Monsieur Poirot.

Who is to say where fantasy ends and
reality begins?

Well, let us speak of beginnings,
Monsieur.

Act one of a drama so very strange.

Albert Wally.

A boy.

An orphan.

Poor and unloved.

Who was sent away to live with his uncle
who was cold and aloof.

Albert Wally is a name I haven't used in
years.

No.

But an uncle who disapproved of your
fantasies and your desire to tread the

boards.

All those years, listening to that old
fool going on about his precious

Li Changyuan, I began to see
possibilities.

But then you had a task most difficult,
no?

To worm your way into the confidences of
the members of the Peace Party.

Child's play.

I forged my references and quietly took
up my position as Dr. Quentin.

Painter's condition is not really very
difficult to research. I'm an actor,

Monsieur Poirot, and a bloody good one.
Oh, yes, indeed, Monsieur. Your ability

to blend in, to pass yourself off in all
manner of disguises, which has proven

so useful.

You have the genius of the character
actor.

Savaranoff was killed to implicate
Abraham.

Your uncle died to throw suspicion onto
Li Qianyan.

And Steven Painter, who was innocent,
murdered to incriminate

Madame Olivier.

He was a weak fool.

His weakness was his conscience.

Emily persuaded him that it wasn't
decent for them to continue their silly

affair. That's all it was, then?

Diana Painter overheard him ending the
affair. It had nothing to do with the

Four. Indeed so, mon ami. But why?

God's name. What the hell was it all
for?

For me.

Wasn't it, Mr Poirot?

Oui, mademoiselle.

For the woman who spurned him all those
years ago.

For therein lies your tragedy, Monsieur
Darrow.

The very gift that could have turned you
into the actor supreme makes you

forgettable.

The man who blends in. The man whose
name nobody ever can quite remember.

The man who... He said to you.

Albert Wally.

Claude Darrow. Dr. Quentin.

Number four.

Whatever you choose to call yourself,
monsieur.

You adore the flourish. That is
theatrical.

You've got a nerve.

Come on.

All this.

You already worked out where I was.

You could have sent the police to arrest
me at any time. But instead, you wanted

your grand finale.

Show everyone just how clever you've
been.

Oh, we're more alike than you think.
Well, all right.

Nobody move.

Don't be a fool, Daryl.

You'll never get away.

My men are surrounding the building.

If Fosse won't have me, then we're all
going to go out in a blaze of

glory.

We've got to get everybody out of here.

One minute.

One minute.

Before I bring down the final curtain of
the Big Four.

Poirot, you will not do it, monsieur.

To do all this for the love of one
woman?

You will not send her to her grave,
Albert Wally.

You... Cannot.

It's all right.

It's all right, son.

It's all right.

You spoiled everything.

You spoiled it all. You insufferable
little man.

But I am number four. Do you hear me?

The destroyer.

Death itself.

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

It is a source of great relief that
after our terrible ordeal, we

are able to clear not only our own
reputations, but that of the party as

Indeed. Li Chang 'an wants to reassure
every civilized nation that we will

continue to strive for world peace.

The Big Four has proved to be a fiction,
but still we stand on a

precipice. The situation remains grim.

But if war does come, the powers of
light...

will be united as one.

I will have to eat some humble pie,
naturally.

But I do have the exclusive story of
number four to write, so that's some

consolation.

Thanks for the opportunity to be in at
the end, Mr. Poirot.

I hope you've learned your lesson, mate.
Check your facts before you print.

Incidentally, how did you work it all
out?

It occurred to Poirot for some time that
this case had the flavor of the

theater.

And the label of the costumier, Max
Berman and Sons, was the first mistake

Monsieur Claude Darrow. His scrapbook
led me towards Mademoiselle Monroe.

Of course, naturally, he kept his eye
most closely upon her. But when she met

with me, Hercule Poirot, he panicked.

Hercule Poirot speaks.

I understand you've been trying to
contact me. My name is Claude Darrow.

yes, indeed, monsieur. In connection
with your time at the Mathieu de la

an interview, it is possible?

Certainly. I can spare you a moment or
two later on this afternoon.

Bon. What is your address, monsieur?

Flat A, 41 Wilberforce Road, Islington.

At what hour?

Shall we say four?

Parfait. Au revoir.

But I hope that even if for one moment
Monsieur Claude Darrow could believe

his plan had succeeded, then the
subsequent realization of his failure

all the more devastating.

And Hercule Poirot?

He was proved correct.

I still can't quite believe I managed to
do it.

Convince him I was in love with him.

I warned Mademoiselle Monroe that she
would need courage and that it might

to be most dangerous.

But when the moment it came that Claude
Darrel worked to make contact with her

again, as I knew that he would, we must
be ready, eh?

It was the performance of a lifetime,
Mademoiselle.

Yes. I had a wonderful director, Mr.
Poirot.

Oh.

Merci.

Well, delightful as this all is, But I
need to get on and write my column.

I don't suppose you'd be interested in
giving me an exclusive interview, would

you? The woman who stole the heart of
number four?

Oh, perhaps.

Maybe we could discuss it further.

Over lunch.

I don't mind if I do.

Four months of a lifetime certainly
gives a girl an appetite.

So what do you fancy?

Simpsons is lovely. I thought we'd more
for a while. Or we could go dancing.

Well,

Faro, we're pleased, you know, that

you're not, you know, dead.

Of course we are, but... But why did you
go through with this horrid charade,

making us believe you'd been killed?

But it was vital, Miss Lemmon. Vital
that you should believe it. It was

necessary for Poirot to disappear,
because in this way, the god of number

would be dropped.

I'm sure you have the best intentions.

No man is a hero to his valet.

Can you ever forgive me, madame?

It was all for the best.

I suppose.

But you know this affair of the Big
Four, it has done some other good, no?

it not reunited me with all my oldest
friends?

Almost all.

Because where is Hastings? Where is
Captain Hastings?

Well, there's been no sign of him since
he charged off, I'm afraid.

Surely. He must have heard the news by
now.

Good Lord.

I thought you were dead.

Mon ami, here's things.

Mon ami, mon ami.

It is the most extraordinary thing. I
was only saying just where...

If you want to find out how Poirot's
adventures all started, we have

the very first episode available as a
free taster on ITV Player. Just go

to find out more.

Well, the drama continues on the wars
and suburbs of 1960s London in

Tomorrow night at nine, Anna Brush with
the law could have serious consequences

with Charlie and the hospital.

That's tomorrow, but next tonight, it's
the news and weather.