All language subtitles for 04 Nemesis

Finish him.

Am I in heaven?

Marple? Yes?

I'm Mr. Broadrib.

You're not terrifying after all.

Should I be?

Mr. Raphael called you nemesis.

The bequest is modest.

The gramophone?

It's very thoughtful of Jason.

Oh no, Mr. Raphael left you 500 pounds.

But there is apparently a condition
attached.

Which he wanted to tell you himself.

Jane, I've issued to investigate a
possible crime.

And right a dreadful wrong.

The pieces of the puzzle I have myself
assembled.

But it will be for you to fit them
together into a complete, and I suspect,

terrible picture.

Then, my dear, I imagine you're
returning to your beautiful roses,

again.

But first, you must once more become
that goddess of retribution and

anger. Once more, be nemesis.

Let justice roll down my quarters, and
righteousness like an everlasting

And there was this.

Two tickets to a mystery coach tour.

Take a trusted companion of your
choosing to support you if danger

Which it may.

Choice is yours.

I know the deadline looms. Better
deadlines are for to loom and scare, but

the muse defends.

You're my agent, Marjorie.

Just tell the publishers the new Raymond
West will be sensational.

Hold, please, Marjorie.

Raymond West?

Oh, Sophia.

Avril? No, I haven't seen Avril for...
Hold, please, Sophia.

Avril, I didn't mean it.

You looked happy.

Marjorie, I'm writing a novel, not
baking a cake.

How do I know how long it's...

Tuesday week.

Go tell them what the hell you like.

Sophia. Hello.

I knew you'd be back.

I knew you'd be back, Michael. Come on.

Aunt Jane.

I tried to telephone, but the line's
always engaged.

How wonderfully lovely to see you.

My favourite art.

You are only on, Raymond.

Is something the matter?

I've had a strange request.

What kind of man was Jason Raphael?

He was German.

But left in 1933 when the Nazis burned
his book.

He wrote about justice.

I admired him more than I can say.

And he'd have done anything for me.

What did he mean by a possible crime?

Something that happened that may or may
not have been a crime.

Or a crime that hasn't happened yet, but
possibly will.

Daffodil tours.

Find where truth lies and you will find
the truth.

I could do with a holiday.

Avalanche and fear can wait.

I like a girl in uniform.

Beauty and the Beast.

Sidney and Margaret Lumley.

Morning. Good morning.

Sir.

Good morning.

Either Michael Faber or Lawrence Rabin,
they're the only single travellers.

He looks like an off -duty undertaker.

Could be handy if someone's murdered.

Good morning.

Morning. Good morning.

Amanda Dalrymple and friend.

I hope he knows what he's letting
himself in for.

Why, is she another of yours? Certainly
not, per se.

Ray! Get off the priest!

Oui, isn't it?

Boy, you're a dinky typewriter.

Are your fingers tip -tip -tapping with
a new novel? They never, never stop.

Meet my aunt, Miss Jane Marple, the
Honourable Amanda Dalrymple.

What a curiously charming hat.

Raymond's treating me to a little break.

And... Oh, my philister in general
thing.

Eric Tom.

Fit.

What fun, eh?

Yes.

Rayburn.

Even the lower orders need a holiday
sometime.

Evidently.

Regiment from his tie.

Captain Martin Waddy and his wife
Rowena.

Don't fall, she's fine.

Something about nuns, don't you think?
That

scratchy black.

Mother Superior Agnes Carson and Sister
Clotilde Merriweather.

What a merry little band we are.

We're just waiting for our last
passenger.

Sorry for the delay.

Don't mention it.

Why, thank you.

I'm Georgina Barrow, your guide and
driver. We nearly left without you.

But you did not.

Good. Yes, good.

Thank you.

Guten Morgen, Michael Faber.

He's a bloody German.

I beg your pardon?

Oh, nothing. I was just wondering.

It's your first time over here?

Second.

I was in the Luftwaffe.

Sure you're most welcome, Mr. Faber.

Thank you, sister.

Old sins cast long shadows.

You get the impression everybody knows
everybody.

What would I do without you?

Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of
Daffodil, welcome to our

little mystery tour.

And off we go.

Let justice roll down like waters and
righteousness like

an everlasting stream. dream.

That's the map that he used to bomb us.

The war's over.

May I, Mr. Reardon? Oh, please.

You prefer a coach to a train, don't
you?

Yes. The straight line's all very well,
but twists and turns are so much more

absorbing.

What brings you on the tour?

Well, I was kindly sent a ticket by a
gentleman who remembered me from a house

party.

I can't recall him.

As one gets older... Amos Flair.

Flair?

How unusual.

With an E.

I don't know why I can't remember him.

What's Beareth done to deserve your
absence?

Too many other expenses.

Who asked you?

Do you know Miss Dalrymple?

I was in service to her uncle as his
butler.

Isn't that odd?

Isn't it?

But Martin, don't feel like you have to
do everything. It's a holiday.

Not an invalid.

Sorry, have you been to Dorking?

Not to my knowledge.

Oh.

Are there many nuns in Dorking?

No.

No.

You must have had one of those faces.

Ladies and gentlemen, our first stop is
the historic Forrester Grange, ancestral

home of the Forrester family.

Is something the matter?

It's where I was in service to Lord
Forrester.

This splendid basilica recalls the glory
of ancient Rome in the heart of

England.

Notice the gilded gods looking down on
us lesser mortals as we make our way

through the riot of coloured marble and
on into the wall.

The 9th Lord Forrester was renowned for
his extravagant balls, attracting the

creme de la creme of society.

The Prince of Wales is said to have
danced the fandango here in 1814.

Lovely.

Moving on.

And there's Lord Forrester with his
family.

In 1772.

Attributed to Thomas Gainsborough, but
who really knows?

The wall hangings are of crimson silk by
the Huguenot weavers of Spitalfields.

Moving on.

136 feet in length.

The long gallery was designed to afford
variety and amusement.

for those ladies retreating from the
unseemly revelry of gentlemen still at

dinner.

Next, the print room.

The original wood panamon was replaced
in 1767.

The velvet glass was now seen.

Are you unwell?

Unsettled.

Memories? Yes.

Why have we come here, of all places?

It is a coincidence, isn't it?

Another one.

First Miss Dalrymple, and now Forrester
Grange.

Is Lord Forrester still in residence?

No, he's in a nursing home.

Not long for this world, so I hear.

His children, well, have quite a
responsibility.

My Lord Forrester is childless.

His niece, Miss Dalrymple...

will inherit the estate.

Not that she deserves to.

It could just be a coincidence that
we're here.

Oh, shut up.

Please, don't get hysterical.

Don't take any more of those. They're
Benzedrex, not dolly mixtures.

The Good Samaritan.

Yes.

Of all the parables, isn't loving thine
enemy Christ's most important teaching?

That reminds me.

Do you have a Bible?

Out, out, out, out, out, out, out, out,
out.

This talk is over.

Fini, back to the charabag.

This house is mine, or it soon will be,
and it's no longer open to visitors.

Go on off with you!

Sue!

Who is it?

I'm not sure.

Aren't coke parties meant to beat the
date affair?

A bit more like Topka.

Glad so.

Chapter 5, verse 24.

Let justice roll down like waters.

The book of Amos.

Raban said he was given his ticket by an
Amos flare, which is an anagram of

Raphael.

Jason always liked to tease me.

And he always got people to do what he
wanted.

Where does Faber fit in?

Who?

Oh, Michael Faber.

Yes, I wonder.

Driving on into the heart of England,
we'll be seeing bosky groves and

pastures before arriving at Medhurst, a
typically charming village, nestling

below the picturesque Bonaventure Rock.

We'll be staying in a flying horse.

Well known for excellent cuisine.

I'm sure they'll do you a sandwich in
your room while you work on your novel.

Very nice.

You're Raymond West.

I know.

Colin Hards. Hello.

How's the new one coming along?

Pretty well, pretty well.

Well, I do hope yours isn't a silent
order.

Otherwise, conversation would be
terribly one -sided.

I know a joke about two nuns.

Would you pass the pepper?

And what tempted you from shady
cloisters on this little daunt?

An anonymous benefactor sent us the
ticket.

Some grateful soul we must have helped
along life's thorny path.

I've read all your books.

How kind, Colin.

I reckon I've got a book in me.

You must have, then.

She's always going in for things like
this, you know.

If it's not cost words, it's bot the
ball.

And if it's not bot the ball, it's comic
captain.

First time I won anything, these
tickets.

I can't really even remember
interviewing.

But Rowena, she deserved a holiday.

You know, it's the first we've managed.
The first we've managed since the war,

with all the operations.

Yeah, I was all but blind when Army
Welfare... When Army Welfare brought him

home and then the woman said it would be
a long battle, but he's good as new.

Except I can't dance, for some reason.

No, he's lost all his sense of rhythm.

And we used to love to foxtrot.

I don't suppose if I, um... showed you
my jottings?

Busy, busy, busy, I'm afraid. Ah,
success, lads.

Bubbly? Oh, thanks, but I much prefer to
keep a clear head. I much prefer you

out of your uniform.

Thanks, Dad.

Champagne! Oh, thank God!

Saving your presence, girls.

Isn't she lovely, eh? Oh, yes.

Lucky chap.

Do you drink?

No, thank you.

Thimbleful will do no harm.

Where's Mr Faber?

He wasn't hungry.

Long life. Long life! Cheers!

Nice, isn't it, Martin?

It wouldn't seem fair if you missed out.

My nephew can be so extravagant. And
even though he can afford it. Thank you.

No.

In case you change your mind.

It's never too late.

I learned that from a man called Jason
Raphael.

What sort of a man was that?

Was?

Yes.

My English.

Your English is excellent.

You had a dear old friend with a son
called Michael who stayed in Germany

Jason was forced to leave.

Yeah. Oh, he came back for holidays.

Of course.

The war put a stop to that.

What? What did your friend say about
this son?

That he wanted to be a pilot when he
grew up.

And that he had frighteningly
intelligent eyes.

I am Michael Raphael.

I'm so sorry.

My ticket was with his final letter.

He said perhaps it could make things
correct.

Say, Moms.

But too late.

You should choose better friends, I
think.

Excuse me.

Well, I'm bored.

Tell me a bedtime story.

I'm trying to work.

Don't be so mean.

Very well.

Once upon a time... Oh, good.

Once upon a time, I... There was a
sophisticated woman who lacked one

The ability to take no for an answer.

You used to say yes.

That was then.

You never understood my artistic
temperament.

Old -time thing?

I'm feeling it.

Oh. All right. Don't go.

Miss Dalrymple was just looking for
something that she'd lost.

Quite. But, um, it's no longer here.

I meant to ask you about your lovely
dress. A long -cherished favorite.

Amanda. What, darling?

Mr. Raymond!

What's happened?

I think he fainted and fell down the
stairs.

Verity?

I'm not Verity, I'm Margaret.

You? Bed.

We should get a doctor.

No, no, I've got some heart mixture in
my room.

We don't want the tour disrupted,
Raymond.

Jason's note.

Find where truth lies.

Truth with a capital T.

So? Oh, Raymond.

You're a writer.

Yes.

What's another word for truth?

Verity.

Margaret Lumley thought Rabin was
calling her Verity.

Perhaps she's the girl in the photo that
had such a dramatic effect on Amanda.

Why are you all persecuting me?

And perhaps Verity was the reason for
Michael's argument with Mr. Rabin.

Who is Verity?

What is she?

If only we knew what this crime was.

Or will be.

Mr. Rayburn, you'll miss breakfast.

Mr. Rayburn.

Colin. Oh.

Oh, it's Detective Constable, aren't
you? Oh, this is my art.

Of course, you're the writer, aren't
you?

Oh, well, perhaps one day.

Will there be a post -mortem on Mr.
Rayburn?

No need.

He had a heart condition.

But, uh, shouldn't you test his medicine
for poison?

Poison?

Who'd want to poison him?

Besides, Mr Lumley and Mr... The German
said that the door was

locked when they helped him back and he
had the key, so... Well, the medicine

couldn't have been got out.

Oh.

Raymond, are you really too busy to help
an aspiring author?

I'll take your advice, Aunt Jane, as
usual.

Are your jottings typed up?

Well, they can be. Do take the next one.

Just in case.

We'll see.

Go on, maybe.

It disrupts it, doesn't it?

It isn't... I don't know.

Come on, sit down, sit down.

Sorry for the delay. I had to deal with
the formalities.

We're just waiting for the police. The
police?

It's routine with a sudden death.

Wasn't it strange, Mr. Rabin, coming out
with that name?

Verity.

Quite unusual.

Wonder who she could be.

If anyone... I don't suppose any of us
knows her very dear.

I certainly don't.

We did.

She was a novice at St Elspeth, our old
convent before the Order moved to London

after the war. We took her in one
winter's day, 1939.

What brought her to you?

She was running from her man.

And the next summer he found her.

But I sent him away in no uncertain
manner.

She owed me money.

I let her have a room in my house in
Kilburn and she did a flip.

I just tracked her down. She had a
different story.

An over -attentive landlord.

No, no.

A few days later she disappeared.

Got nothing to do with me.

Did she tell you where she'd come from?

No, no, she didn't. She did say that...
She'd followed her mother into service.

A servant family.

It's just a thought.

But the girl in the photograph had got
broken.

Mr. Rabin seemed to know her.

Verity was the housemaid's daughter of
Forrester Grange.

Rabin was very fond of her, and she of
him.

And her father?

She was told he was Arthur Hunt, an
undergarner who died when she was a

But in fact, she was born the wrong side
of the blanket.

A love child?

I doubt love came into it, knowing her
mother.

She never did say who the real father
was.

Verity followed her mother into service,
but she was caught stealing and ran

away. That child would never steal.

I loathe dishonesty.

And seeing her in a fruit bowl was just
too much.

Weren't you arguing with Mr. Raymond at
Forster Grange?

We disagreed about the war.

And so?

Do you know where Verity is now?

She's dead.

Sometimes I... I get vibrations.

Quite a bother.

But he is usually right.

You're right.

He's seen too much death.

Go to him.

Bless are

they that mourn, for they should be
comforted.

It's you, madam.

You stayed here before.

In wartime, summer 1940.

Don't be so stupid.

What makes you think it was me?

I remember your manner.

You remember wrong.

Now go away.

We're all in considerable distress.

Miss Barrow, don't... Regulation issue.

Daffodil Tours like their staff to look
their best.

Wise policy.

Might have interest.

Who runs Daffodil Tours?

Mr. Daffodil.

What will he think of a death on the
tour?

I'd imagine he'll be as shocked as I am.

What's next?

An invigorating walk.

Stout shoes, please, and... shorts.

If you've got the legs.

I don't think I'll come.

Oh, love.

You're still feeling upset?

I'm tired, you know.

She was very kind, wasn't she?

Sister Clotilde.

Yes. Yes, she's very calming.

Come on, then.

Throw the cobwebs away.

OK.

Sit down, Dad.

Here.

You're at liberty to explore as you
wish, everyone, from now on.

And we'll meet back at the Flying Horse
this evening.

It's a steep climb up to the rocks.

Mr Faber, keep up.

You said it is allowed to walk alone.

Don't blame me.

Something's going on.

Don't keep us for it's up.

All these coincidences.

Everyone's connected to everyone else.

Not us.

I think Mrs. Lumley might be right.

There's a very pleasant riverside walk
for those of you who prefer.

What could have upset Mr.

Faber?

His name is not Faber.

I have to tell someone.

His name is Michael Raphael.

And I think he killed Verity.

During the war, we took in wounded
servicemen at St Elster's, those that

hospital could do nothing more for, and
for one reason or another, they couldn't

go home.

We had our nursing skills and some
medical support and did our best for

Though in truth, it wasn't always
enough.

And then in 1940, the Battle of Britain,
Michael's aircraft was shot down.

And Verity found him alive.

We gave him sanctuary.

A German airman?

Well, love thine enemy.

Another German pilot was nearly killed
by local villagers when they found him.

Verity nursed him in secret, away from
our official patients.

They fell in love?

Yes.

I remember the day she left.

She was keeping vigil with Ralph
Collins, an RAF pilot who was nearing

And then she told me that she and
Michael were running away together.

And she was to meet him here in
Medhurst, on Bonaventure Rocks.

And I reminded her that she had offered
herself to God.

I told her to come to the chapel and
pray to St. Elspeth.

For strength to tell Michael that she
must never see him again.

And pray she did.

And St. Elspeth gave her the strength.

I must confess I was very surprised.

Young love can be so strong.

But Mother Superior was right.

As she always is.

And Verity chose God over her passion
for Michael.

I wished her good luck, and off she went
to tell him.

But she never came back.

And a week or so later, when we were
burying poor Ralph Collins, news reached

that Michael had been captured and taken
to a prisoner of war camp.

We never heard from Verity again.

Did you report her missing?

Yes.

But to my everlasting shame, I only told
the police that she'd gone into

Medhurst on an errand.

I couldn't mention Michael because I
would have faced prison myself for

harbouring the enemy.

And it was my fault.

He killed her. We can't say that.

Swarted desire can unleash evil even in
the best of souls.

I don't think all of this is a
coincidence.

Forrest de Grange, Rayburn, Verity.
Well, no, but if I can

tell you about the... But what, you
worm?

Well... I don't see what we can do about
it. You see, the principle of the

matter is... We?

One doesn't keep the dog and bark
oneself.

Ah, dog or worm. Dog or worm. That's a
difficult question because there's a

number of permutations there. Oh, go
away, Derek.

I've had enough of it, Sidney. I'm
frightened.

We're not stopping now.

Please.

I can't manage without you, darling.

We're in this together.

It's not me you care about, is it?

Wait, don't be silly.

Slow down!

I know who you are.

A few years older and dressing sharper.

But it's you.

Is it?

What a proposition.

Come to my room later.

Without your husband.

Yeah, fine.

You can see right to the coast,
apparently, from the top.

Yeah.

You know, I think I'll wait for you
here.

Is it playing up? No, it's fine.

I'll wait with you. No, no, you go on.
It's fine.

Bye. Yeah, see you later.

Bye, love.

Yeah, yeah.

What do you want?

Georgina!

Writing should be an act of love.

Otherwise, it's nothing but scribble.

I've had the report of Mr. Rabin's heart
medicine.

Not a trace of poison.

But I did order a post -mortem.

And you were right.

He was poisoned.

When? The latest, soon after he went to
bed, at the earliest.

Seven o 'clock.

Exactly, Mr West.

Could someone have flipped it into a
champagne?

Certainly.

I'm sorry, has anyone seen Rowena?

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

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

We don't know she was pushed.

Perhaps she just brought her pudding.

Uh, no, no, I can't see it.

Well, Mr. Hart says right, Raymond. Of
course Rowena Waddy was murdered.

What have you got there?

Just a piece of straw.

What about this figure you saw?

I only glimpsed him.

Dark jacket, hat.

See, you say him.

Could it have been a woman?

I suppose so.

Is there something over there?

No, there isn't.

Why not treat this as an accident for
now?

One of our group is a killer, and until
we know why they murdered Mr.

Raven and possibly Verity Hunt... Don't
put their guard up.

Exactly.

Now, do you know...

Of a man called Jason Raphael?

I thought she must have gone down
another way.

I came back.

She wasn't there. I took a nap.

I didn't sleep well last night.

And when I woke, still no sign of her.

Is your sleep often disturbed?

Yeah.

The name.

Verity.

Mr. I's been mad.

Is that the real reason that you're
here?

I advertised in the personal columns.

Haunted by Verity.

Desperate for the truth.

Please contact.

I received two tickets by post.

A name on a card.

Had you perhaps met Verity somewhere?

Forrest de Grange, or where the nuns
were, St Elspeth's, or Kilburn?

Where she lodged with Mr Lumley?

If I had, I'd remember.

Why not?

Somewhere in here is Shrapnel from
Dunkirk.

My memory can't tell. It took six months
in Dover Hospital for me to recover it.

I'll be identified.

Yeah. It was Christmas before I was
reunited with Rowena.

Did you tell her about Verity?

You upset me too much.

Yes, Sidney told me about Verity Hunt,
and yes, I suppose there is a

resemblance. Especially when we first
saw you in the coat.

What do you mean?

You were less sophisticated.

No jewellery, hardly any make -up. Like
you were when Mr Rabin called you

Verity.

Sydney prefers me like that sometimes.

Reminds them of her.

So what?

Had you met anyone else in the group
before?

No, thank you.

So, that afternoon... I was upset with
Sydney.

I went up to those rocks on my own all
the time.

Exactly where?

One rock's the same as another.

Right?

One rock's the same as another.

I was looking for Margaret.

She was in a bad mood.

What's this got to do with Mrs. Boddy's
accident?

Perhaps she'd prefer to tell me about
Verity.

I've got nothing to hide.

Autumn 39, when my mother passed away, I
advertised for a lodger.

Just for the company.

I let her have the room, even though she
couldn't quite afford it.

Sometimes we used to go to the Flicks.

I'd get her chocolate.

Sundays we used to listen to the widest.

After they married me, she ran away.

I had this picture postcard from
Medhurst saying a very nice sorry.

So I traced it to St. Elspeth in the
hope that I could talk her into

changing her mind.

But they wouldn't let me in.

I wouldn't harm her in a million years.

If you want to know who scared her,

It's the Honourable Amanda bloody
Dalrymple.

Of course I scared her. You're not
obliged to answer questions.

And you're not obliged to interrupt.

Abuse is an ontology, sir, Detective
Constable.

An hick, hayek, hawk, dickery dock.

You're not in court now.

It was me who had her dismissed for
stealing.

Verity doesn't sound like a thief from
what I've heard.

Well, you're no judge of character. Look
at you in that role.

I'm an excellent judge of character.

Shall we leave you alone?

I was thinking, when you broke that
photograph, it did seem rather more than

Meredith's approval of a thief.

Yes. Why would you hate her so much?

I don't know.

I... Of course, you do inherit Forrester
Grange as the next of kin to

Lord Forrester.

What's that to do with anything?

You said that Verity grew up believing
that her father had died.

But suppose he was Lord Forrester?

Yes.

When her mother died and Verity turned
21, Uncle changed his will in favour of

her because she was his only child.

Naturally, I was furious at the prospect
of losing my inheritance, and I told

her the truth, that she was nothing more
than the illegitimate result of a

sordid romp between her tart of a mother
and my goat of an uncle.

She was remarkably upset, and that's why
she ran away. And that's the last I saw

of her.

But you are Lord Forrester of Aerith
now, so Verity must be dead.

I've been to Aerith non -Aerith, which
means if you're not around, you don't

the swag.

Four years ago, I had her declared dead.
It should be missing for seven without

trace. Do you by any chance remember
Verity wearing a locket around her neck,

she was in the photograph?

I'm not in the habit of noticing cheap
jewellery.

Now, that afternoon on the rocks, he got
lost chasing butterflies, he says,

and I came straight back down and
returned here.

Did anyone see you? They certainly would
have heard me.

One of the nuns, I don't know which.

I called out if I passed, but we didn't
speak.

I did hear Miss Dalrymple call.

But I was deep in meditation.

I'd gone in search of Michael to urge
him finally to kneel like the black

-hearted sinner that he is and confess
his guilt before the Almighty.

Fortunately for him, he disappeared.

I challenged Mr. West to a stiff climb
and won.

Her legs are longer.

When I reached the top, you disappeared.

I went exploring.

Does it strike you as odd that two out
of your ten passengers are dead and it's

only the second day of the tour?

No, it's twelve passengers.

Oh, no, Mr West and Miss Marple don't
count.

Oh?

Why?

At Forrester Grange, Rayburn accused me
of killing her.

He guessed who I was because Verity told
him about me.

He was crazy and so is that Agnes and so
is anyone who thinks that I could...

We were so in love.

Were you?

From that first moment, I believe.

And it became more.

And grew.

Until we both knew it.

But I could not stay.

I decided to try for Ireland.

I asked her to come with me.

She said yes, and we arranged to meet at
Bonaventure Rocks.

She never arrived.

Someone must have seen me and been
suspicious.

But I swear, she never arrived.

I was the rest of the war prisoner.

I asked my father, that champion of
justice, your friend, to help not me,

find Verity.

I am sorry, Michael, but you ask too
much.

I am lucky not to be interned as an
enemy alien, so how can I possibly help?

I'm afraid you must forget this girl.

I know.

forgive him.

Never.

I cannot count the number of letters he
wrote me after the war, begging me.

I burnt them all.

Yesterday afternoon, standing on those
rocks again,

I felt Verity was there.

One razor.

Silver.

One gentleman's comb.

Black.

Are you making any sense of all of this?

I'm starting to.

One letter.

Verity to Rayburn, one letter.

May I?

Oh yes, yes, of course, of course.

One hair, oh two, two hair brush.

think I left my knitting.

Your earrings are pretty.

I saw some just like them in Gallard's
window when Raymond took me to tea in

Piccadilly.

They were awfully expensive.

Oh, I always buy my jewellery at
Gallard's.

Though, all good things come to an end.

And there are some things that money
can't buy, Sidney says.

Well.

No. Sorry,

are you writing?

What is it, Colin?

Oh, yeah, I telephoned Dick Rogers. He
was on the missing persons inquiry for

Verity Hunt.

And? Nothing.

They looked all round the Medhurst area.

Even searched up at the convent in case
she'd come to some sort of harm.

You don't mean the suspected dark and
dreadful deed that St Elspeth do?

No, no.

It's very thorough.

Oh, Dick, you turned the place upside
down. But no, no.

It's vanished into thin air.

Mind you, Mother Superior has a cunning
streak, if you want my opinion, under

that heart of stone.

I wouldn't put it past her.

To steal away from the convent at dead
of night and dump a body somewhere it

would never be found.

On a bicycle.

Mr West.

They didn't have a car.

Your imagination.

Yes.

That's what a writer needs.

Of course, of course.

Still going well? Yes.

It's all up here.

Just a matter of letting it out. Letting
it out. Quite.

Oh, I don't suppose you've had the
chance to cast your eye on her? No, no,

yet.

Yes, Derek.

Royal Navy me.

Four and a half at Atlantic.

And I was torpedoed in 42.

Next thing, I was the Ministry of Food,
writing pamphlets about powdered egg.

Powdered egg! Powdered egg! Powdered
egg.

Somebody had to do it.

Here, Derek.

That bear's bleed.

That was a bleed.

Hi, Steve.

Why didn't you tell me up on the rocks?

You might have pushed him off and killed
him.

I didn't know you had it in you.

Nobody tries it on me in my life and
gets away with it.

Thanks, Sid.

I'll wear the locket you gave me until
my dying day, I promise.

I can't tell you where I am, but I'm in
love with a chairman airman called

Michael.

Raymond.

We toasted love, but no idea what it is,
me.

You're drunk.

Well deducted.

Deduced? Spot on.

Why can I write about love, but I can't
do it, hmm?

You haven't written about anything
recently, as far as I can tell.

So cruel, aren't you?

It's not all the time.

Tip, tapping, tap.

They're thinking.

Then leave yourself some room for
thinking instead of cramming your life

Avril and Sophia and Giordano.

Looking for anything?

What on earth is happening?

Some of us need our ten hours.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your
attention?

My name is Jason Raphael.

If you're hearing this, it has become
necessary through my earthly

representative to encourage you to
continue this mystery tour.

Your next destination will, I hope,
reveal the true fate of poor Verity, and

justice shall prevail.

As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

Why did you ask Miss Daringpool about
Verity's locket?

Was there something special about it?

It was very special indeed to Verity.

What happened to your nose?

Caught it on the door handle.

Dinged up my shoelace.

What are they looking at?

Where are we going now?

Sit down!

We don't want an accident.

Why are we going here?

Send out.

What are we doing here?

I don't like it.

Something's scurrying under my foot!

I expect it is a mouse.

More like a rat.

Now you know what's going on. You are a
policeman.

Doesn't necessarily follow, I'm afraid.

She doesn't look too happy, does she?

Martyrdom is no laughing matter, Mr.
Lumley.

St. Elspeth's heart was pierced by the
spear of Lord Ethelbert when she refused

to forsake her faith to become his
mistress.

Some of her bones lie here still in the
chapel below.

in love here.

With Verity.

And you know this.

There you are.

My head's exploding.

I had terrible dreams last night.

I thought of fate.

And then it vanished.

There was another woman calling me.

You told me.

Throwing a death was a dreadful thing.

What's dreadful?

I can't feel.

But I think I should be feeling.

It's a terrible thing to say.

I wonder if I ever truly loved her at
all.

I don't believe you. What's wrong with
the coach you got us here? Well, it's

getting us back.

So where's the nearest taxi rank in Miss
Stafford or 1951?

You sabotaged it.

We're staying the night and that's all
there is to it. It's not. It's not?

I'm not staying here. You're me.

Put my key back. The man I saw on
Bonaventure Rocks when Mrs.

Waddy was killed, he wore these.

The book had your name on it, Mr. Faber.

Why would I kill Mrs. Waddy? I have
never seen those clothes before.

You can give your statement to the
police station.

When?

Tomorrow.

That was my first arrest.

Since leaving uniform for CID.

Oh, no?

Good, yes.

What do you make of that?

Fresh clothes?

Well, those too.

The inscription.

Known unto God, that's for an unknown
soldier, surely.

Then there's his name.

Oh, that was added later.

We only identified him sometime after
the burial, when his widow came looking

for him.

She scoured the hospitals, and we were
her last hope.

She was too late.

But we kept his signet ring, and she
recognized that.

Poor woman.

She must still visit him.

What?

My card.

If you want to sue for wrongful arrest.

How do you know I'm innocent?

I don't.

Just hedging my bets.

Perhaps you know that Amanda put those
clothes in my bag.

Why would she?

Perhaps. She can't help herself hurting
the innocent.

Verity was terrified of her.

If you don't want my help... Wait.

The waitress said Amanda stayed at the
flying horse around the time Verity

disappeared. It's you, madam.

You stayed here before.

She was mistaken.

Was she?

Yes.

Was she?

Amanda was there, but she didn't do
anything.

Go.

Oh!

Damn.

Oh.

Where do you really fit in, Georgina?

Jake and Raphael?

Gramophone messages?

A coach that suddenly won't start?

I'm a driver and tour guide.

And you follow orders?

I try to be a model employee.

And this is my first assignment.

And before?

Intelligence Corps in the war.

Taught at a Porsche girls' school after.

Latin and netball.

Long legs must have come in handy.

So did the brain.

Are you following in your aunt's
footsteps?

Luthing.

Staying single.

This is my artistic temperament.

Not with supper to cook.

My mattress is simply crawling with
things.

You'll just have to frighten them away,
Miss Dalrymple.

Well, I didn't say it worked. You'd
better not have.

Mother Superior was telling me about
Ralph Corrin.

Oh, the headstone.

It was all terribly sad.

He was more or less in a coma from the
day he arrived.

No papers.

No memory.

The most appalling injury.

Mother Superior took it very hard when
we lost him.

I laid him out all by myself to spare
her.

And broke the news in the morning.

We were all terribly on edge.

It was almost a week since Verity had
disappeared.

He's got to be here somewhere.

It's me.

Perhaps he's made a run for it.

Let's just try inside the jungle.

Please, Verity, confess it. How could I?

Sister, why?

After I'd had Verity declared dead by
the courts, she wrote, threatening to

return from the grave unless I paid her
£50 a month.

But anyone could have read about your
legal action and written a letter. I'm

that gullible.

I sent Derek to meet her with a
photograph and a list of questions about

past.

And it was her?

Yes.

I only ask because when Mrs Lumley first
saw you as the coach, she put on dark

glasses.

As if you were afraid Mr Turnbull might
recognise you.

Such a fear could account for your
transformation that evening from the

and simple look that you said reminded
Mr Lumley of Ferret.

And reminded Rayburn, too.

That's why he called you by her name.

It is possible, isn't it? How could you
do that to me?

That looked like her from the photo.

Didn't it?

Your simple little frock and a dark wig
under the light of a backstreet lamp

because you were too nervous to meet in
daylight.

Of course you answered all the questions
about Verity's background because your

husband coached you.

He's not that stupid.

He rumbled us on the rocks, didn't he?

Are you admitting to blackmail?

Ask him about blackmail.

He said if I came to his room and did
things, he'd keep quiet about us.

How's your nose?

Oh, that's money!

Wait.

Why were you in Medhurst when Verity
disappeared?

Were you looking for her?

Yes.

How did you know where she was?

I'd written to an old skivvy chum at
Forest the Grange that she was here at

convent.

I wanted to offer her an allowance if
she kept quiet about her real father.

But I never got the chance.

Then, my Verity, is she alive or is she
dead?

I expect things will make sense in the
morning.

They usually do.

Mother Superior wondered if you'd like
this.

No.

How thoughtful of her.

Wasn't it?

I do.

She can be.

With liberty right, it is right to give
up Michael to God.

To love in our own ways.

Sleep tight.

Whose soul are you praying for?

Is it mine?

Who are you?

I am Nemesis.

And justice will roll down like waters.

And righteousness, the everlasting
dream.

The poison in my cocoa is the same
poison that killed Mr. Rabin, isn't it?

Mother Agnes asked me to give you that
cocoa.

I asked her to, but she didn't poison
it.

It was a temptation, Clotilde.

And you succumbed.

When Mr. Rabin said Verity at the flying
horse... Verity?

It wasn't Margaret Lumley he was looking
at.

It was you.

You were wearing a locket that I saw at
Forrester Grange in the photograph

placed there by Georgina.

A locket given verity by her adored Mr.
Rabin that she'd promised him she would

wear until her dying day.

When you saw him recognize it, he had to
die.

I don't think the poison was in the
champagne.

Coco?

You were wearing something.

Sleep tight.

Was it like that?

Poor Mr. Rayburn.

And poor Verity.

Your own special one.

You killed her.

There is no proof.

Isn't there?

You killed me.

I loved you.

But you were leaving me.

She said St. Elspeth had given her the
strength.

But not to reject Michael.

To go with him.

What did you do with her?

Where is she?

Dead and buried. What did you do with
her?

I put her in Michael's room.

And telephoned the police anonymously?

And told them a German was on the run.

At Bonaventure Rocks.

Yes.

And then I prayed to St. Artemis.

Every day.

For a week.

Until she told me what to do.

And informed Mother Superior that the
unidentified patient, nearly blind in a

coma, had died.

But in fact, you wheeled him to
Michael's room where Verity lay.

And then... The police were coming to
search.

I had to wrap her in bandages.

I swaddled her in a shroud.

And then buried her as Ralph Collins.

But I wore her locket all the way.

And now I understand.

I wasn't in hospital all those months,
was I?

You were here.

In Michael's room.

I'm not Captain Martin Waddy of the Tank
Regiment.

I'm Flying Officer Ralph Collins.

I expected you to

die.

St. Elspeth told me to atone and nurse
you back to life.

You were my secret, but I didn't know
what to do with you.

And then she granted me a miracle.

I read of a woman, clearly disturbed,
who wouldn't accept that her

husband was missing at Dunkirk.

Presumed dead.

I sat by your bed as you recovered the
memory I wanted for you.

And be with your wife Rowena.

Rowena.

I returned Captain Martin Waddy to his
wife.

She thought it was a miracle.

She wanted to believe.

Martin.

Army welfare, Mrs. Waddy.

He's home.

But when she recognized you, you

had to kill her.

Poor Rowena.

It was you, Raymond Thorne, Bonaventure
Rocks, after you'd pushed Rowena Waddy

to her death.

How do you know?

I found a clue.

And the scarecrow I'd noticed on the day
of Mrs. Waddy's murder had been moved.

Because you had used it in your
deception.

While you were killing Mrs. Waddy,
dressed in the clothes you later placed

Michael's case, Miss Dalrymple saw you
deep in meditation.

Of course you couldn't answer her.

So it seemed you were nowhere near the
rocks when Mrs. Waddy died.

I can never forgive myself.

It's God who forgives.

Please.

A moment.

There's a new world out there.

That's very definitely the last ever
time ever I pretend to be verity.

Yes, darling.

Thank you.

How many grindingly hard years for
blackmail? You're not pressing charges,

Amanda. Think of the papers.

Quite ghastly.

Oh, my feet.

Ray! Bunny's fancy dressing Saturday?

I'm going as none.

Sorry, but I'll be tip -tip -tapping on
the new novel.

You're jotting.

And? You've really got something.

Oh, good.

Good.

I'm thinking of giving up the police.

Oh, but you have the makings of an
excellent detective.

All aboard.

Let justice roll down like waters and
righteousness like an everlasting

Could the history books hold the key to
Barnaby and Jones' latest investigation?

You can find out tomorrow at nine in
Midsomer Murders here on ICB1.

Happy 40th birthday, Mitch. Or is it?
The film City Slickers 2 is after the

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