All language subtitles for She.Played.With.Fire.1957.1080p.BluRay.x265.HEVC.AAC-SARTRE_.eng

Lowis Manor,

I shall never forget the day
I first heard of that house.

It was the morning of Christmas Eve,

my second Christmas in
the world of insurance.

Oh, Oliver?

Yes, Mr. Abercrombie?

Michael says,

could you slip round to Lloyd's?

Apparently, something
or other's cropped up.

I thought on Christmas Eve

everything stopped dead on noon.

Probably some housebreaker
was not aware of the date.

Whenever
I went into Lloyd's of London,

the greatest insurance
market in the world,

I felt like a new boy in a very old school

trying to learn it all much too late.

Sometimes the place seemed like the temple

of a strange religion
with the caller sitting

under the famous Lutine bell like

a priest calling the faithful to prayers.

Mills, Godfrey.

Abercrombie, Michael.

Abercrombie, Michael Abercrombie.

Francis Livingston.

Williams, Eric Williams.

What's up, Michael?

It's only a routine job
but Berkeley Reckitt's

the leading underwriter and we haven't

assessed any claims for him before.

He could put a lot of business in our way.

Mr. Reckitt, this is Oliver Branwell, sir.

I'm sending him down to assess the claim.

Good day to you.

Good day, sir.

Burton Hicks are the brokers.

You know their claims manager,
Mr. Connor, don't you?

Hello, Fred.

- We've met.
- And crossed swords.

- Any complaints?
- No.

This is the correspondence.

You'll see we're on building and contents.

Tracey Moreton, Lowis Manor,
Slaydon, Sussex, had a fire.

Only a small one, shouldn't
spoil your Christmas.

I'll drive down and take a look.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

I saw Lowis Manor

for the first time just
before five o'clock.

Mr. Abercrombie?

Well, I'm from Abercrombie and Son.

My name's Branwell.

Of course, they said
someone would be calling.

I'm Mr. Moreton, Tracey Moreton.

Do come in.

This is a ridiculous business.

My fault, I suppose, really.

Was there much damage?

Oh, could have been a lot more.

My wife and I were
putting up the Christmas

decorations yesterday and as it

was infernally cold in
the picture gallery,

I plugged in another electric fire.

Whereabouts?

Just by the window.

When was the fire discovered?

Between three and 4 a.m.

Trixie woke us, that's my wife's dog.

I must have gone to bed

and forgotten to switch the thing off.

And afterwards somebody must have opened

that window and then the wind blew all

the decorations over the
fire and up they went.

At least that's how we think it happened.

This is Clive Fisher,
my cousin and neighbor.

Hello.

Mr. Egbert, the local builder.

How do you do?

Well, it might have been a lot worse.

It'll all have to be rendered.

I wouldn't complain if it
wasn't for the Bonnington.

What?

This was commissioned by
my great great-grandfather.

It's a landscape including this house.

That was in 1822.

I do beg your pardon but this smoke

seems to have touched up my asthma.

That'll be my dog and Trixie, excuse me.

Egbert's made out a list.

If you want anything
else I'll be downstairs.

I'll see you before you leave.

Yes, of course.

Down, Ranger, shut up!

Are you from the insurance company?

Yes, I'm assessing the
damage for the underwriters.

I'm Mrs. Moreton, Mr. Moreton's mother.

I'm afraid it was carelessness.

Well, it quite often is,

but fortunately it was caught in time.

Oh, yes, it was caught in time.

My son and my daughter-in-law
managed to put it out.

Can I be of any help?

No, thank you, it's
quite straightforward.

I'm sure you will be fair.

Well, thanks, just a quick one.

What'll it be, some sherry or scotch?

Scotch.

Soda or water?

Water.

This is Mr. Brinkle, darling,
from the insurance company.

My wife.

How do you do, Mr.--

Stop it, Ranger!

Trixie!

Come on, get down here, stop it!

- Branwell.
- What?

Oliver Branwell.

What did I say?

Oh, I'm sorry.

How do you do, Mr. Branwell?

Those nearest to you.

The darker ones on my side are herbal.

Stink to high heaven and don't do

your asthma the slightest bit of good.

Well, I like to imagine they do.

You're always saying that
it's a nervous complaint

even if it does run in the family.

Not that I had it before the war.

Well, not until Burma, actually.

You weren't in Burma?

Yes, I was with 26th Div.

We went into Rangoon from the sea, why?

I came down inland with 4th Corps.

Well, blow me down!

Here we go.

I warn you Mr. Branwell,

you're about to be invited to dinner.

Yes, you've taken the
very words out of my mouth.

Oh no, really--

Thank you, I'd like that.

Good.

Before the war an old family
still meant something.

Mine has fought in
every war since the time

of Ashing Corps and a
grateful government has

left us less and less to call our own.

Before long the manor
will go and someone will

turn it into a home for
retired boilermakers.

And that will be the end of a place

where generation upon generation

of Moretons have lived graciously.

The Moretons can still do that,

Tracey, it's an attitude of mind.

You're an escapist, mother.

We're all escaping
from something, Tracey.

Mother will never agree

that people like us have had our day.

Haven't we, Branwell?

Well, I don't know
that I ever had a day.

Before the war I was a junior clerk

in a tea warehouse at four
pounds, 17 and sixpence a week.

And how did you escape
from tea to insurance?

I met Michael Abercrombie
in Hong Kong just after Korea.

I was a port security officer,
I was still in the army.

I helped him to recover
some industrial diamonds

and he offered me a job with his firm.

Sarah was in Hong Kong for a time.

Weren't you, dear?

Yes, for a little while.

I act for the underwriters.

I adjust the claim so that
it's acceptable to both sides.

Almost as good as being a detective.

I find that most people are honest.

Really?

Goodnight.

Sarah--

No, Oliver.

It's stopped raining.

Oh, good.

We must see each other again.

I was just going to suggest that.

Well, I go up to town from time

to time in search of some new cure.

And as for Sarah, she's
up there four days a week.

She does fashion designing for Delahaye's.

I must remember that.

Goodnight, Mr. Branwell.

Goodnight, Mrs. Moreton.

There was nothing I could
do until after Christmas

except rehearse the
things I was going to say.

Hello, Sarah.

Oliver!

What are you doing here?

I called you a half a dozen times

at Delahaye's but they
all said you were out.

- On my instructions.
- But why?

Meeting will get us nowhere.

Sarah, just a few minutes.

I have a train to catch.

The next one isn't until 6:30.

- How do you know?
- I've looked it up.

Come on.

Two coffees, please.

Well, it's been a long time.

Is that all you have to say?

Are you happy, Sarah?

I always think that's
such a silly question.

Oh, now--

What about you?

You've never had any serious competition

either before or after
you walked out on me.

Walked out on you?

Oliver, didn't you ever hear anything?

Afterwards, I mean.

I never moved in government house

or American diplomatic circles.

I know, you were a junior
clerk in a tea warehouse

at four pounds, 17 and nine pence a week.

Six pence.

At all events, I wasn't
good enough for your father.

My father, that fine
old Southern gentleman.

Between spells of being
a professional guest

he was sometimes careless about

little things like writing checks.

When I went home that night,
that last night, Oliver,

I found they told him that if he

left quietly nothing would happen.

He begged me to go with him.

He broke down and cried.

We went.

Without a word to me.

Well, it never occurred
to me that you wouldn't

have heard the whole miserable story.

But why didn't you write?

I suppose you could call it pride.

I waited to hear from you.

Well, I had my pride, too.

So between us we had enough pride

for a dozen sensible people.

And later on you married Tracey Moreton.

Eventually.

I think I'd better start--

Sarah.

Don't ask me again if I'm
happy, Oliver, or I'll scream.

I never knew where I was with you

and I'm hanged if I do now!

I'm married to Tracey
and we trust each other.

But we just can't
leave things like this!

One thing's certain, we can't go back.

Goodbye, Oliver.

And I mean goodbye.

The months went by.

I did not hear of Lowis Manor again

until the case of Charles Highbury.

Only, at the time I didn't
see the connection at all.

Yes?

I have a tricky
assignment for you, Oliver.

Ever heard of Charles Highbury?

Highbury, isn't he the fellow
they call the singing miner?

That's right.

He's starring in a picture here.

He had a blackout last Tuesday.

Knocked himself out and
gave himself a black eye.

That's his story and
it might even be true.

I'm happy to report there's
no doubt about the black eye.

What do the doctors say?

His says he needs a
month's complete rest.

Our says he'll be as fit
as a fiddle by Monday.

If you can get him back to work by then

so that the film isn't
held up we might save

the underwriters 30 or 40,000.

- Here are the particulars.
- I see.

Well, where do I find him?

At his hotel.

He can't very well refuse to see you.

For what it's worth, his wife left

hurriedly for New York the same night.

On.

How many more times
do I have to tell you?

My doctor was quite definite about it.

You don't expect me to
kill myself, do you?

Most certainly not, Mr. Highbury,

and may I say the insurance company

would welcome it even less.

Well, you can tell them from me

that I'm going back when
I'm fit and not before.

If they send any more insurance
types I won't see them.

Mrs. Litchen's on the
line again, Mr. Highbury.

Shall I put her on?

Oh, alright!

No, tell her I'll call her back.

But, Mr. Highbury--

She can wait five minutes, can't she?

Very well, Mr. Highbury.

Now, where was I?

You got as far as you wouldn't
see any more types like me.

That's right, why should I?

Good day.

I see, thank you.

Those awful people from the
insurance keep on calling.

I mean, what with the doctors
and the studio frantic

because he can't get back, Mrs. Litchen.

Yes, I know, Mrs. Litchen.

Mrs. Litchen, hmm.

Yes, I know, Mrs. Litchen, but--

Litante, Litapeels,
Litauer, Litaweave, Litchen,

Mrs. Vera Litchen, 8 Tiverton Gardens.

I'd like to see Mrs. Litchen
on a business matter.

Mrs. Litchen's still asleep.

But I'm sure she wouldn't
be interested in insurance.

Well, I'll call back later.

Would you tell her it's
about a Mr. Charles Highbury?

Who did he say?

What name?

Mr. Charles Highbury.

Tell him to come in and wait.

Will you come in and wait, sir?

Yes, I will come in and wait.

Sit down, please, sir.

Will you come in here, please, sir?

Yes, thank you.

Do forgive me for receiving
you like this, Mr. Branwell,

but I had a frantically late night.

Now then, what's all this
about Charlie Highbury?

I'm investigating an insurance claim

in connection with Mr.
Highbury's accident.

I see.

Sit down.

I heard that you were a friend of his.

How did you hear that?

Well, perhaps I should explain

I've just left Mr. Highbury.

I'm surprised our songbird is uttering

at all on the subject.

He says that he won't be able to go back

to work for a month because of his attack.

Attack is right.

Mix me a drink, would you?

Gin and anything that's there.

And yourself, too, Mr. Branwell.

Oh, thank you very much.

Look, um, just what am I laying up

for myself if I say anything?

Nothing at all.

You know that Charlie and I have been

around quite a bit since he came over.

Mm-hmm.

Well, I went outwith him that Tuesday.

Janet, his wife, was away in Scotland.

After dinner Charlie asked me back

to show me his press cuttings.

I see.

You don't.

He actually showed me his press cuttings.

You don't believe me?

Neither did his wife.

She came back unexpectedly?

And?

And caught us deep in his scrapbook.

Volume three.

I was just about to summon my carriage

when Janet, remarking,
take that you big canary,

connected on Charlie with
a beautiful right swing.

Here's how.

Ah, the black eye!

Janet's practically a midget,

but our hero went out like a light.

Well, thank you very much, Mrs. Litchen.

That's very satisfactory.

Tell me, do all insurance
investigators come like you?

Big, nice hair, deep brown eyes?

I don't know, I probably don't look

at them from absolutely the same angle.

I bet you could be
fun if just for a couple

of hours you could forget insurance risks.

The third party risks might be

more to the point, Mrs. Litchen.

Meaning what?

Mr. Litchen.

Oh, he doesn't live here anymore!

Ah, but you never know,
he may get homesick.

Well, goodbye ma'am,
you've been most helpful

and forthcoming.

Mr. Charles Highbury went
back to work on Monday.

As I said, I didn't see
any connection at all.

But a few weeks later by
chance, or so I thought then...

Oh, Mr. Branwell, there's a Mr. Moreton

been brought in, not very well.

What is it, is he alright?

It's just his asthma.

I hope you don't mind, Branwell.

Oh, no.

I'm alright, sorry.

Tracey came up to collect some pictures.

He'd asked me to meet him afterwards

outside Barber and Curry's.

You know, the picture restorers
just round the corner.

When I got there he was lying
back in his car, helpless.

Traffic fumes.

He wanted me to phone his wife.

Said you wouldn't mind
if I brought him in here.

No, of course, not.

Hello, Ethel?

It's Clive.

Look, is Sarah with you?

Oh, dear.

Well, apparently she said she might

be dropping in on you for tea.

Oh well, never mind.

Alright, goodbye.

Tracey was going to take in

the Sadler's Wells Ballet with Sarah.

He told her to be in the foyer at 7:15,

now we can't locate her.

Perhaps Branwell could go to the theater

and explain to Sarah.

That's an idea.

Would you mind?

Well, no, I suppose--

I've got the tickets here.

You might like to see the show.

And then put her on the train later.

You could have refused.

Yes, I could have said I only

had time to give you the message.

You could still say that.

Do you really want me to?

Oh, for goodness sake,
Oliver, get back in the car!

Look at you, you're wet through.

That doesn't matter, as
long as you're alright.

Blasted roof!

Oliver, look at my dress, I'm soaked!

I'm terribly sorry!

We'll have to skip dinner now.

I suppose you better put
me on an earlier train.

But you'll catch pneumonia.

I'm tough, I think.

There's only one thing for it.

We'll have to go back to my
place and you can dry off.

Well, there's no need
to look at me like that.

I didn't arrange this, either.

Ready, Sarah.

Tin soup and bacon and egg,

that's what the best dinner
in London's come down to.

Mmm, smells wonderful.

I'm starving!

You look lovely.

In this?

Yes.

Sarah, do you remember that time when--

I don't think we should
go into that, Oliver.

All I remember is that we've had

a lovely evening and we're not going

to spoil it by remembering anything else.

Sorry.

Alright, soup.

Have you lived in
this place long, Oliver?

Ever since I started
in the insurance business.

It certainly doesn't
look very comfortable.

Oh, I go away from it a lot.

I don't blame you.

It must get awfully lonely here.

Do you think we should go into that?

Sorry.

Tell me about your work, Oliver.

Do you get many fake claims?

Some, mostly dug fires
and jewelry losses.

How can you tell they're fake?

Oh, all kinds of ways.

For instance, a fire has to be prepared

and quite often the floor burns through

and the preparations fall in the basement

and that gives the game away.

Well, in that case it would be better

to start the fire in the basement.

Yes, and stick to old fashioned methods

like candles in waste paper baskets.

How does that work?

Have you told Tracey you knew me before?

No, Why?

Tell me about you and him.

Oliver, I thought we'd agreed--

You know, tell me!

"No!

Do you love him?

He needs me, Oliver.

I told you before we trust
each other completely.

We never did, did we?

Our love had some guts to it.

It didn't depend on polite exchanges.

Yes, of course, I'm jealous of him.

Did you expect me to be otherwise?

Do you think I'm going to enjoy

the particular form of torture I'm going

to suffer during the next few weeks?

Do you think I can shut
out the sort of image

that's going to present itself to my mind?

Oliver, don't.

Don't look at me like that.

Is that you, Sarah?

Yes, Tracey.

We were trying not to wake you.

Well, the doctor put me to bed

the moment Clive brought me home.

So, of course, I had to wake up.

Hello, Branwell.

Come on in.

Oh no, I--

I missed my last train.

There was an absolute downpour.

Really, what bad luck.

Come on in.

Oh, no, I don't think so.

I think I'd-

- Nonsense, nonsense, my
dear fellow, I insist.

Yes, but look at the time.

That's alright, things are
a bit of a mess, I'm afraid.

We have the decorators moving
in next week for repairs.

There's woodworm in the balcony
and heaven knows what else.

Sarah and I are going for a vacation

up in Yorkshire while they're here.

Are you taking something, Sarah?

No, thank you.

Scotch was your
poison if I remember, Branwell.

No, I really must be going.

What, after bringing
Sarah all the way home?

And besides, you haven't
seen this place by daylight.

It's worth looking at, you know.

Goes back the devil of a long way.

Doomsday.

What, Mother?

It's mentioned in Doomsday book.

Oh, you're right.

You remember Mr. Branwell?

He's staying the night.

I remember Mr. Branwell very well.

Tracey, you ought not to be out of bed.

I can say the same for you, Mother.

I never sleep nowadays.

I'll be up in a minute.

I think I'll be going up, too.

I'm awfully tired.

Thank you for bringing me back, goodnight.

Goodnight.

You'll be ready to
turn in, too, I expect.

- Oh, no.
- Come on.

Look, I'm being an awful nuisance.

Nonsense!

I've no shaving gear or toothbrush.

I'll fix you up with everything.

It's dreadfully easy, I
won't take no for an answer.

It's this way through the gallery.

Mind those steps.

It's been hanging with the
Lippi and the Constable.

Barber and Curry certainly freshened

them up, don't you think?

Not that you can really
tell by this light.

You can have another look in the morning.

Though I expect you'll be wanting

to talk over old times with Sarah, eh?

What do you mean?

Well, I gather you used

to know each other in the old days.

Who told you that?

Sarah, of course.

Watch your step when you
get into this dark corner.

The Moretons used to farm
all this land themselves.

But what with death, duties and taxes,

they've either sold it
or rented most of it.

Sarah, why did you lie to me last night?

What do you mean?

You said you'd never told
Tracey we'd met before.

I suppose I was embarrassed.

I hate to see you lie.

I'm a very imperfect human being

as you should have realized.

Oliver, I don't know what to do.

Separation hasn't worked out, has it?

Look--

I know you think we made a mistake

five years ago and we belong together,

but that stops being practical
the minute I look at Tracey.

Yes, I know.

There's such a thing as self-respect.

You've got to be able
to live with yourself.

I do understand.

And now, sir, if you will half turn

in your seat you'll observe the prospect

of Lowis Manor from the
southwest as painted

by Bonnington in the year
1822 from this very spot.

That's funny.

What's that?

I've got a strange feeling
I've been here before.

Perhaps you have.

No, never, not up here.

Oh, you're probably thinking
of our Bonnington landscape.

No, that couldn't be.

Why not?

It was destroyed during
the fire Christmas Eve.

Oh yes, of course, there
was nothing left to see.

It was not until I was driving back

to London that I did remember.

And if I was right, if I was right...

Yes?

Mrs. Litchen?

She's out.

Do you have an appointment?

Yes, Branwell's the name.

She didn't mention it.

She said if she wasn't
back would I wait.

- She did?
- Yes.

I guess it's okay then.

You have business with Mrs. Litchen?

- Yes.
- What business?

Actually I called to discuss increasing

the insurance cover on the contents here.

That's strange.

Why?

They don't belong to Mrs. Litchen.

Oh, don't they?

No, sir, they belong to me.

This is my apartment.

Mrs. Litchen has occupied it

since I went back to the States.

Oh, I must have misunderstood her.

Yes, you must.

My name's Croft, Willis Croft.

How do you do?

I want to tell you that Mrs. Litchen

is a very lovely lady, Mr. Branwell.

We aim to be married in the fall.

Congratulations.

I'm sorry to have troubled you.

That's a very fine landscape.

It's a Bonnington, isn't it?

That's correct.

A Bonnington, a very lovely
painter of a very lovely period.

Are you sure it's the original?

I don't collect copies, sir.

How did you manage to find it?

A dealer I know
sent a lady to me with it.

A lady?

Said she was acting for an old

family that had been hit by the war.

What was she like?

25, 26, good looker.

Tallish, strawberry
blonde hair and blue eyes?

What are you, a relative?

It's just that I think
I know the same dealer.

I recollect she seemed kind of pleased

when I told her I'd be taking that picture

right home with me to the States.

Of course, that was
before I met Mrs. Litchen.

That not only changed my plans,

I guess it's changed my whole life.

I guess it has.

Yoohoo, poopsie!

You?

What's he doing here?

Come to think of it, I'm
not entirely clear, honey.

I called in about
that matter we discussed

last time and found Mr. Croft, here.

Oh, I see.

When I saw Mr. Croft I
realize I'd misunderstood you

and that our business couldn't mature.

Well, I'm sorry if I misled you

at all, Mr., um, Branwell, isn't it?

That's perfectly alright.

- Goodbye, Mr. Croft.
- Goodbye.

I'll see you to the door.

It was naughty of you to call
in without ringing me first.

But I must say, you carried
it off very cleverly.

He leaves Wednesday, I'm in the book.

Goodbye.

Oh, Fred!

Hello, Oliver.

Do you still handle
Tracey Moreton's business?

Tracey Moreton?

Yes, why?

It's nothing important, I just wondered

if he'd taken my advice and increased

the insurance on Lowis Manor lately.

As a matter of fact, he has, by 50%.

Mr. Connor?

Oh!

Moreton?

We've never had any dealings
with a Mr. Moreton, sir.

And you haven't restored a Constable

or a Filippo Lippi for him?

Constable?

No we haven't touched one of either

of those for anybody for some years, sir.

Yes?

I have Mr. Dane for you now.

Put him on, will you?

Mr. Dane?

Yes, that's right.

I think I'm on to a fraud.

I can't talk about it
yet, but can you put me

in touch with somebody who can give

me some elementary guidance on how

to tell a genuine old master from a fake?

Here's something about

the Filippo Lippi period,
genuine, of course.

I'm taking it that a really elaborate fake

wouldn't be necessary if
they're only made to be burnt.

Now, I want you to notice
that network of fine cracks.

Oh, yes.

When a faker tries
to imitate cracks like that

he often makes them too coarse, too wide.

Another point, Lippi
painted on wooden panels.

Under the circumstances the faker

may not have been too particular

about aging the wood,
probably only dirtied it down.

Try rubbing it with a solution,
see if anything comes away.

With the genuine article
nothing should happen at all.

Now about the Constable, that's
a different kettle of fish.

Now I knew

what I had to do and what to look for.

I knew that Sarah and Tracey had planned

to leave for Yorkshire that afternoon

and drop his mother off in London

with old Elliott to look after her.

If I was right I ought
to find the house empty.

What's that?

Who is it?

Tracey?

Tracey!

Who's there?

Hello, emergency, fire!

Lowis Manor, near Slaydon, it's a bad one!

Who is that, what name?

Moreton, Tracey Moreton, hurry!

Tracey!

No.

No!

Yes?

I've been trying to get
you for a quarter of an hour.

Have you seen this morning's papers?

Not yet, why?

Lowis Manor was burnt down last night.

What?

How did it happen, was anyone there?

Only Tracey Moreton, I'm
afraid he's had it, Oliver.

Yes, they found his body.

They think he must have smelled

the smoke and run out to look over.

There was a temporary balcony
rail across and it gave way.

Hello?

What about his wife?

She'd gone ahead to
Yorkshire, 200 miles away.

They broke the news to her
there early this morning.

I see.

We'll be handling the claim, no doubt.

I thought perhaps you would like

to get down there right away.

I can't, Michael, I can't do that.

I mean, that's why I
couldn't get to the phone.

I've sprained my ankle.

Well, I met a man from my old regiment

and we made a night of it.

I got back here as high as a kite

and fell halfway down a flight
of stairs, if you must know.

Trust you not to do things by halves.

I'll have to get down
there myself, that's all.

I'm sorry this has
happened to the Moretons.

I know they're friends of yours.

I'll phone you when I get back.

Alright.

Who's that?

Michael!

Just a minute.

You alright, Oliver?

Just coming!

Come in.

Hangover, too.

That's right.

I'd never have believed
it of you, Oliver.

I got back early so I thought I might

just as well call in on the way.

Oh, I'm sorry, can I help?

You can fix us both a drink.

Well?

The place is a ruin.

They saved part of one wing, that's all.

How'd it start?

Difficult to say.

The house had been full
of workmen during the day

and I suppose somebody
was careless, as usual.

Writing to the family?

His mother, thanks.

Was there nobody there except Tracey?

No, and unfortunately
the gate house was empty.

How was that?

There were some new tenants coming in.

Tracey's wife put them off until she

and Tracey were due back from Yorkshire.

Pity, as it turned out.

It certainly was.

Michael, I'd like you to carry on

and finish this job if you don't mind.

Why?

It's just that I'd like
it that way in this case.

Very well, if it'll satisfy you.

Now, do you think you can get
downstairs if you lean on me?

What?

I'm driving you around
to my physiotherapist.

He'll fix that ankle of yours in no time.

- No, I can't do that.
- Why not?

I told the office I'd be here.

Well, that's simple,
I'll give them a call.

But there's another reason.

What?

My own doctor's
collecting me for an x-ray.

Why didn't you say so?

I must be getting back.

Let me know if there's
anything I can send you.

Michael?

Hmm?

I suppose everything will go to her?

The insurance on the contents

goes to the widow, absolutely.

Though I shouldn't think
she'll stay a widow very long.

Why do you say that?

What, with her looks
and a small fortune?

Goodbye and keep off them stairs!

Dear Oliver, it was kind of you

to write to Tracey's mother as you did,

I thought I'd surely
see you at the inquest,

but you were not there and
you left no word for me.

I seem to have heard
from all of my friends

except the one who means the most.

A strange letter,

not a word about the claim.

But why should I have looked for anything?

What did I expect from her, confession?

I took refuge in my work.

In due course the claim
was settled in full.

Sarah received 30,000 pounds.

Of course, I should have spoken.

But how could I without giving her away?

Oliver.

Are you looking for me?

Do you mind?

No.

Do come in.

It's more uncomfortable than ever.

Well it's not, shall we say, Lowis Manor,

but the chairs are clean.

You never came to see me.

No, did you expect me to?

Was that expecting too much?

Yes.

Obviously, I shouldn't have come.

I thought perhaps--

Yes, tell me that, tell
me just what you did think.

I should like to know.

Well, I remembered before
pride didn't get us anywhere.

And I thought there might
have been some scruples--

Scruple is the word.

What?

Haven't you anything else to tell me?

What do you mean?

Oh, come off it!

That starry-eyed innocence
doesn't ring the bell anymore.

Well, go on, don't stop there.

The truth is, I felt too sick,

sick to the stomach to bother to see you.

I know all about the fire!

It went wrong on the night for Tracey,

but that didn't stop you from cashing in.

What are you saying?

I kept my mouth shut!

I betrayed every principle
that's supposed to govern my job.

- What more do you expect?
- Oliver!

You're wasting your valuable time.

I know that Bonnington was a copy!

And I know that fire at Christmas was just

a small time rehearsal
for the big one later on.

You and Tracey had a bit
of luck then, didn't you?

I was sent down to settle the claim.

Nothing like an old flame
to help the new fire along.

Stop it!

Up the garden path I trotted falling for

the whole elaborate
stinking piece of fiction!

Asthma attacks--

You can't possibly
be suggesting that I--

I'm suggesting, in addition to my

other insulting, and
rightly so, suggestions,

that Mr. Tracey Moreton deliberately put

his charmingly cooperative wife in my way!

I thought at first that you
might be an unwilling partner,

playing Tracey's hand
because you were his wife!

Let me go!

Can you dent that you
sold that Bonnington

to an American called Willis Croft?

Deny?

You must be ill with
suspicion and jealousy!

If you've been keeping your mouth shut

for my sake, then open it!

Say whatever you like.

Go to the police!

Do whatever you want to smear Tracey.

His memory can stand up to it.

What, no drink?

No.

Oh, do have one.

Have a sausage!

Thank you.

Mr. Croft.

Mr. Croft.

Hello!

Great to have you here,
glad you could make it!

Jack, Wilma, do you know Mr. Ferguson?

- No, hi, Mr. Ferguson.
- How are you, Mr. Ferguson?

I just want to--

- Have you kissed the bride?
- No.

- You have to kiss the bride!
- You must kiss the bride!

- Vera!
- You certainly do!

Mr. Croft, you remember when
you bought the Bonnington?

Huh?

The Bonnington, there!

I was wrong, you're not Ferguson.

That's right.

Is this the woman you bought it from?

I guess it's like her.

Say, what is this?

Congratulations, Willis, darling!

I know you're going to be madly happy.

- Thanks, Virginia.
- Hello, darling!

Are you sure it's the same?

Who said it was the same?

Then it's not?

It's the same type, sure enough,

but it's certainly not the same girl.

Are you positive?

Sure, I can remember faces,
even if you're not Ferguson.

Your name's right on the tip of my tongue.

Well, that's fine, thank you.

Say, what is this?

Oh, here's Mr. Ferguson
who hasn't kissed the bride.

Ferguson, my foot.

It's the man from the Prudential.

Darling, you do turn up at
the most extraordinary times.

Pardon me.

Yes, sir?

Mrs. Moreton, number three, isn't it?

What name is it, sir?

What name?

Sarah, Sarah!

I've just seen Willis
Croft and I was wrong.

I was mistaken, but
that's only a part of it.

Now you must listen to me--

Are you alright, madame?

Will you kindly show
this gentlemen downstairs?

Look, I'm going to talk to you if I have

to take this place apart brick by brick.

We've got to work this out!

It's all worked out, finished, done.

There's nothing more to talk about.

I've made one terrible
mistake and I'm sorry--

Shall I fetch someone, Mrs. Moreton?

Yes, hurry--

But Croft did buy the Bonnington.

Probably half the pictures
in Lowis Manor were fakes.

Tracey was shamming when
Fisher found him that day.

The fire was a put up job

from start to finish!
Are you going to leave now

or are you going to wait
until I have you thrown out?

I tell you I saw it for myself!

I was there!

- There?
- Yes, at the fire.

I don't believe you.

I made that alarm call, not Tracey.

Here's the scar where I burned myself.

Tracey was already dead.

That fire had been started
by exactly the same method

that I told you about in the basement.

Here he is.

I understand this man is
annoying you, Mrs. Moreton?

What?

Oh no, no.

No?

You did ask me to fetch someone, madame.

Yes, I know, it's been
a mistake, I'm sorry!

Oh, I see, thank you.

Oliver, tell me.

Tell me.

I can see now how
everything pointed to me.

But darling, believe
me, I never said a word

to Tracey about any
way of starting a fire.

It was an old enough trick.

What were the other things?

Well, it just wasn't one thing,

it was the whole lot taken together.

I've been a fool.

You said that I must have been

ill with suspicion and jealousy.

I think I was.

And you never said anything to anyone.

Now what's to be done, Oliver?

I must give the money back.

Yes, that must be done.

It's an awkward job, but I'm sure

the underwriters will be sympathetic.

Tracey.

Strange how you think
you know someone so well,

then suddenly realize you never

knew how their mind worked at all.

Oliver, take me out somewhere,
where I don't have to think.

I think that night we went slightly mad,

a great weight had been lifted from us.

Our problems seemed to have melted away.

Sarah, will you marry me?

Yes, Oliver.

Soon?

- How soon?
- Saturday.

Saturday this week or next week?

This.

Oliver, you're not serious?

But I am!

Darling, it's too soon.

If we wait you'll change your mind.

Don't you trust me?

Of course, not!

Never could.

Sarah, darling, we've
lost five years already,

five years wasted.

But darling, I have nothing to wear.

Besides, there's a little
matter of 30,000 pounds

to be returned and heaven
knows what explanations.

Michael doesn't get back until Saturday.

We'll get married and
see him right afterwards

and get him to arrange about the money

then in the afternoon
we can fly to France.

What do you think?

You're not giving me time to.

Wonderful!

Perhaps I didn't give myself
time to think, either.

- Have you got the check?
- Yes, darling.

Good morning.

Good morning, sir.

Good morning.

Good morning, Mr. Branwell.

Michael.

Oh, Mr. Branwell, I've been trying

to get you at home but
you must have been out.

Yes, I was.

Mr. Michael's been kept in Liverpool.

Oh, no!

Yes, he phoned just after 10 to say

his father was running a temperature

and he felt he ought to stay with him.

Well, when will he be back?

Not till Monday now.

Can I give him any message
while you're away, Mr. Branwell?

What?

Well, perhaps you could say that

Mrs. Moreton and I were
married this morning.

And we just called in to get his blessing.

Darling, what are we going to do?

We'll see him when we
get back, that's all.

I can't see another week's
going to make any difference.

And for a few wonderful days it didn't.

Until, on the Friday,
when the mail arrived.

Here's one for you.

On.

I wonder who this can be from?

Maybe it's a wedding present.

Oh, listen to this, it's from Michael.

The news knocked us completely sideways.

We never thought that you of all people

would dash off and get hitched at five--

It's Tracey's ring!

He always wore it.

Always.

We could have stayed another day

but we left for home
the following morning.

Oh, there you are, Fisher.

Hello, Branwell.

I'm sorry, I'm a couple of minutes late.

That's alright.

Move, Ranger.

- Coffee?
- Thanks.

One cappuccino.

Thank you.

By the way your telegram intrigued me.

What's it all about?

Well, first of all,

Sarah doesn't know that I'm meeting you.

I won't split.

If I remember rightly you
identified Tracey Moreton.

Yes, I did, poor fellow.

Why?

Is this his ring?

Yes, yes, that's his alright.

Was it still on his
finger when you saw the body?

Yes, of course.

You seem very positive.

Well, it was one of the
means of identification.

Why, what's the matter?

Someone sent it to Sarah
when we were in France,

just the ring, nothing else.

On.

Shows a very warped sense of humor.

If sense of humor is the right term.

Yes, the work of a very unpleasant mind.

I don't like the way you're
looking at me, Branwell.

You don't think I'd do a
thing like that just because--

- No, no, no, no.
- I should think not.

I just want to know who sent it.

Of course.

Who knew where you were
staying, isn't that a point?

It doesn't apply, it was just sent

to my office marked, 'please forward'.

Well, I wish I could help.

Excuse me, would
you pass the sugar, please?

Thank you.

You say that you had to
identify Tracey by objects.

That's true.

You meant that the
body wasn't recognizable?

I'm afraid it wasn't.

On.

I see.

Hello, darling.

Well, there's nothing much in the papers.

The world seems to have gone on

in the same way since we've been away.

Yes.

Been out?

No.

How about a drink, a glass of sherry?

No, thanks.

I've just had tea.

Tea for two and two for tea.

What?

What's happened?

Oh, Oliver, I wasn't going to tell you.

It happened just after you'd left.

The telephone rang, I answered it

and a voice said, "I'm
having tea downstairs,

"Mrs. Branwell, and I thought
you might like to join me."

Just like that.

I said, "Who is it?"

He said his name is Mr. Jerome.

He wanted to talk to me about
the fire at Lowis Manor.

He said I'd regret it
very much if I missed

an opportunity to have a little chat.

He was a polite, harmless looking
man eating buttered toast.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Branwell.

How very nice of you to come down.

Take a seat, will you?

I've taken the liberty of
ordering a pot for two.

What do you want?

It's not what I want, Mrs. Branwell,

it's what my client wants.

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

There's no need to pretend
with me, Mrs. Branwell.

Certain monies have come into your hands

as a result of the
unfortunate fire in which--

Shall I be mother?

In which your late unfortunate
husband met his death.

To wit; 30,000 pounds.

Well?

My client has proof that
that fire was not accidental.

Two lumps?

If that's the case then why

hasn't your client gone to the police?

Can you see the police handing

over a check for 15,000 pounds?

15,000 pounds?

Half of 30.

My client would undertake to leave you

in undisturbed enjoyment
of the other half.

I see.

I'm not used to talking blackmail

over tea and buttered toast.

Really, Mrs. Branwell,

I take the keenest
exception to that remark.

You mean it's only blackmail

when someone else does it?

I'm merely presenting the bill.

My client would say nothing
at all about the fraud.

Fraud?

Come, come, Mrs.
Branwell, come, come, come.

We have proof that you were in it as well

and that your present husband was

an accessory after the fact.

Indeed.

He's not likely to be frightened

by an anonymous blackmail either.

Nothing like whistling to
keep your courage up, is there?

You have a talk to hubby, by all means,

and I'll come back here
at nine o'clock tonight

for your answer.

One must live, you know.

Why?

I tried so hard not to show
how frightened I really was.

There, you said all the right things.

I wonder who his client can be?

I don't know.

Anyway, we're together now.

They can't take that
away from us, can they?

Can they?

Sarah,

that night of the fire I didn't tell you,

but I thought I heard someone in the dark.

But you said he was
dead when you found him.

I was sure he was dead.

If Tracey sent the ring--

Sarah.

If Tracey sent--

Stop it, Sarah!

Of course, he didn't!

It was Tracey.

- Oliver, I know it was Tracey!
- Sarah!

- I know it was Tracey!
- You must keep your head!

- I know it was!
- Look, Jerome is the way

we can find out.

You must keep that appointment at nine!

Now, you must keep it, you must!

Is it any use waiting any longer?

He's probably seen you through

the window and thought it was a trap.

Maybe he's waiting outside.

I think I'll take Trixie
for a walk around the block.

Alright, don't be long.

Mr. Oliver Branwell?

Yes?

Mr. Jerome?

No, sir, the name's Barnes,
Detective Inspector Barnes.

Is there anywhere we could
go for a little chat, sir?

What about?

It's to do with the fire at
Lowis Manor a few months back.

Yes, I suppose we'd better
go up to the apartment.

I'll just leave a message for my wife.

When Mrs. Branwell gets back will you say

that I've taken Detective
Inspector Barnes upstairs?

Detective Constable Watson.

Good evening, sir.

I'll lead the way.

In what way can I help you?

I don't quite know, sir, yet.

Would you care for a drink, gentlemen?

Not on duty, if you don't mind.

I believe you were a friend
of Mr. Tracey Moreton?

I was on quite friendly
terms with him, yes.

No, thank you, sir.

Thanks awfully, in training, you know.

And the family generally, I take it

that's not too much to assume?

In view of the fact
that I married the widow?

I wasn't going to say that, sir.

Well, I said it for you.

Yes, sir, thank you, sir.

Do sit down.

- Thank you.
- Thank you, sir.

Could you tell me when you
first met Mr. Moreton, sir?

It was nearly a year ago when

my firm sent me down to Lowis Manor.

Why?

It's just a matter of
tying up a few loose ends.

You never met him before?

No, never.

And the same would

hold good for Mrs. Tracey Moreton?

What?

Your wife, sir.

Had you ever met her before?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I had.

Oh, when would that have been, sir?

Oh, it must be five years
ago when I was in Hong Kong.

Oh, did you know her well, sir?

Yes.

I see.

So, naturally, you kept in touch?

No.

No?

No.

Sarah.

I was eavesdropping.

But then, who wouldn't?

When one gets a message that you're here

with a real, live police inspector.

This is my wife.

How do you do?

And just why is Mr. Barnes

so interested in our ancient history?

- Oh, just tying up--
- Just tying up

a few loose ends.

Well, just to tie up one loose end,

very firmly, we lost complete
touch after Hong Kong.

You mean, so that it
was just a coincidence

that you happened to meet
again at Lowis Manor?

Of course, it was!

My dear, he's only doing his job.

Yes, but what, precisely,
is his job just now?

Well, uh, Mrs. Branwell, our file on

the Lowis Manor case isn't quite
tidy enough for our liking.

Oh, and just how is it untidy?

- Well, Mr.--
- Sorry, sir.

Mr. Moreton was supposed
to have telephoned

the alarm 12 minutes
before the firemen arrived.

Mmm?

Then he ran out to look down over

the balcony and the temporary rail broke.

And?

That was the theory
but, in the first place,

there wasn't any
telephone upstairs at all.

What?

Apparently, that didn't
emerge at the inquest

so nobody put two and two together.

Making them five?

I haven't mentioned any score yet,

Mrs. Branwell, but by any arithmetic

it seems untidy for an asthmatic

to have telephoned from a downstairs room

then run up the staircase and,

in the end, being found dead downstairs.

And what do you deduce from that?

Well, sir, we think that someone else

may have been in the house
and done the phoning.

Why?

I suppose you were in London

on the night of the fire, sir.

Do you happen to remember?

Yes, I remember it very well.

As a matter of fact, I slipped

on the stairs and sprained my ankle.

Anyone with you?

No.

I suppose you telephoned his, uh,

your, uh, Mrs. Branwell after the fire?

We had no contact at
all until two weeks ago.

You mean to say you
didn't even correspond

with her for five months after the fire?

Are you accusing my wife of lying?

No, sir.

Dear, he's only doing his job.

Well, I think that's all for just now.

Thanks for your help and you too, ma'am.

A pleasure.

You'll be staying here for some time?

Yes, until we can
find a place of our own.

Yes, apartments aren't easy, are they?

Oh, by the way, sir, is
that your car outside?

Which one?

The black sports car.

Yes.

Does she go alright?

Fine.

Good, goodnight.

Goodnight, sir.

Goodnight, madame.

He thinks you and I conspired to commit

an insurance fraud and that
I probably killed Tracey.

No.

Do you see what this means?

When I go back to the office tomorrow

I can't tell Michael Abercrombie now.

It'll be like saying,
here's 30,000 pounds.

Take it quick before
they arrest me, it's hot.

We're stuck with that money, Sarah.

Saddled with it.

Hello, Fred.

Oh, back, I see.

I hear from Berkeley
Reckitt that you're still

holding up a settlement
on the Kilandy furs claim.

Well, I think Kilandy
ought to produce his books.

Oh, is that so?

Now listen, Fred, I'm not
just trying to be awkward.

You think he's a swindler, do you?

Frankly, yes.

Well, no one can say that
yours isn't an expert opinion.

What do you mean by that?

Do I have to explain?

You haven't heard the last
of this, not by a long chalk.

I didn't want to worry you about

a ridiculous rumor on your first day back.

Dad and I have paid no attention
to it at all, I assure you.

Thank you, Michael.

All the same, you
shouldn't have hit Connor.

Only cause trouble.

Yes, I know, I'm sorry.

What ridiculous rumors
has he been spreading?

Do we have to go into that?

No one who knows you
believes it for one moment.

Well, some folk have a
peculiar way of showing it.

- Who?
- Berkeley Reckitt, for one.

This morning he looked at me as though

there was a bad smell in the neighborhood.

I always thought that
was his normal expression.

Well, perhaps I'd better ask him.

Well, if you must know,

the story is that your car was seen

outside Lowis Manor on
the night of the fire.

I know it's ridiculous.

But, of course, events have taken place

which make one understand how these--

Hello, yes?

Who wants him?

It's a Mr. Jerome for you, Oliver.

Do you know him?

Yes.

Put him on.

Hello, Branwell speaking.

Good day.

I've been telephoning your wife

but she's out and it's very urgent.

I'm afraid I was unable
to keep my appointment

last night owing to a
nasty bilious attack.

I'm afraid I ate something
that didn't agree with me.

Something on the toast, it was--

Can you come to the point, Mr. Jerome?

The point is that my client is pressing.

Your wife must meet me
tonight with the money

or I'm afraid I can't
answer for the consequences.

I doubt whether that kind of threat

will advance the settlement of your claim.

I'm only passing on a message, you know.

Alright, name a time and place.

By the bandstand in
the Embankment Gardens.

I'll be in front of the Burns Statue,

nine o'clock sharp again.

Alright, Mr. Jerome.

Taxi!

There's one!

No, you'd better stay here in the cab.

Oliver, I must know who it is.

Turn round, please.

What are you doing here?

- You know--
- Shut up!

Get out, get out of here!

I must warn you, you're
committing a trespass.

I thought when we didn't show up

you'd report to the boss, Jerome.

Who is he?

Who copied those pictures?

Get out of here!

The same type but not the same girl.

What?

Strawberry blonde and blue eyes.

If you don't get out of
here I'll call the police!

I wouldn't do that.

I think the police might be
very interested in a girl

who sold a Bonnington to an
American called Willis Croft.

Oliver, look!

Another copy of the Lippi!

Oh, no!

Portrait of the artist as a young woman.

You copied those pictures.

- Who paid you for them?
- Shh, listen!

Keep quiet, the pair of you.

Stay where you are, Jerome.

Clive!

I couldn't help it, Mr. Fisher.

I waited an hour, they
must have followed me.

You bilious ass!

So it was you.

You all the time.

Do you know what you've done to Sarah?

As they used to say a few
years back, is my face red?

Oliver, do you realize
it was only Clive?

Yes, I suppose you thought
you'd cash in on Tracey's plan?

It wasn't Tracey's plan, it was mine,

most of it, anyway.

What's the matter with you?

I'm not feeling very well, Mr. Fisher.

The nervous excitement, I think.

Well, crawl off to the
appropriate place and be sick!

One has to do absolutely
everything oneself nowadays!

Ambrosine, I could do with a drink.

Darn silly name, Ambrosine.

Did you bring the money with you?

What, after this?

You must be crazy, Clive!

Well, you may have
pulled my whiskers off,

but I can't see that it
makes any basic difference.

Well, you won't get it!

We're making a full
statement to the police.

What?

Good heavens, what barefaced effrontery!

You're trying to put your hat on my head!

You cottoned on to Tracey's little plan

and came to an arrangement with Sarah.

Poor old Tracey went over the balcony.

You assisted him for all I know.

And a very sordid story it is, too,

even if I am prepared to
overlook it for 15,000.

You were at Lowis Manor that night.

I heard you.

I wasn't even in England.

I was in France on a wine tasting trip

and I had to fly back to identify him.

You can't prove that!

Of course, I can.

Ask the secretary of the wine fellowship.

Well, don't stand there staring

at me like a couple of idiots!

I'd lie myself blue in
the face if necessary,

but I'm not lying now.

I'm just a single-minded fellow

with one aim in view; 15,000 pounds!

Thank you, my dear.

Then, if it wasn't you I
heard that night, who was it?

Nobody.

But you sent me Tracey's ring.

It was you, wasn't it, Clive?

I've told your new husband already, no!

I don't know anything about it.

I wouldn't do a thing like that.

Look out for her!

Sarah!

Here, you better give her this.

Alright, now take it gently.

Oliver, what are we going to do?

Fisher can't touch us
without giving himself away.

I don't mean that.

Now, you sit here for a bit.

We are not going to talk
about it anymore, not tonight.

Now, you must sleep.

I'll get you something.

Oliver?

Yeah?

Trixie's gone.

She's probably in the bedroom.

No, I shut the door.

You stay there.

Trixie?

Trixie?

She's not there?

No, she must have got out.

Or maybe she was barking and
the porter took her downstairs.

It was always Tracey she liked best.

The next day everything came to a head.

Mr. Abercrombie, they
called me in the room.

You wanted me?

Would you come back
to the office, Oliver?

There's something we
must discuss urgently.

On.

Very well, Mr. Abercrombie,
I'll come along immediately.

Good afternoon.

You will let us know if you change

your address, won't you, Mr. Branwell?

Yes.

I know why you've sent for
me and I don't blame you.

We intended telling you the whole story

and returning the money the day you

couldn't get back from Liverpool.

I've been carrying Sarah's
check about with me ever since.

You'd better take it now.

Well, you can see the date.

But then, you can put any date

you like on a check, can't you?

So, it doesn't mean a thing.

Yes, I was at Lowis Manor that night.

It was bound to come out sometime.

I'm only sorry you had to
hear it from Barnes first.

We didn't hear anything from Barnes.

What?

He merely asked me if it was true

that I'd seen you the day after the fire.

And if I could confirm that
you'd sprained your ankle.

I answered yes to each question.

We added we had complete
confidence in your integrity.

Well, you can see how mistaken you were.

I'm afraid you're not a
very good picker, Michael.

I've kept my mouth shut
when I should have spoken

and I've lied to you both since.

But, oh, I can't expect anybody

in their right mind to believe it.

I was not a party to the fraud

and I had nothing to do
with Moreton's death!

If you'll take my advice, you won't make

the mistake of trying to defend me.

If you'll just bury me as decently

and as quietly as possible.

Sarah?

Sarah?

Darling,

I tried to get you at the office.

I've thought of something.

I'm going down to Lowis Manor.

Please don't try to follow me.

This is something I must do alone.

No, you must!

You've come at the end
of a battle, Mr. Branwell.

I'm tired of fighting, so I've lost.

What?

I found that cigarette,
Oliver, and then it came to me.

I thought of the
breathing and I remembered

that she used to be an asthmatic, too.

And then I--

Your wife has been an hour
persuading me, dictating terms.

Oh, no!

I'm to make a statement.

I'm to denounce my dead son!

I'm to shout our disgrace
from the housetops!

- Sarah--
- Please, Oliver.

She took Trixie.

She sent the ring.

Because you were disloyal to Tracey!

Where was Tracey's
loyalty to me and yours?

When you suspected that he arranged

the first fire, did you tell me?

Did either of you do
anything but hide the truth?

Did you?

No.

You're right.

In my heart I was always
afraid that he might try again.

And when he arranged so carefully

for us all to be away, I knew.

What happened, Mrs. Moreton?

I left London that
night and came back alone.

When I got here Tracey had his coat on

and was going to get the car out.

I could tell by his face
at once when he saw me,

so I told him why I had returned.

At first he laughed and said I was crazy.

Then, he suddenly lost his temper,

shouted at me that it was true,

but that it was too late,
the fire was already alight.

Then he ran up the stairs
in a rage like a madman.

Tore down the curtains and started

to throw them down into the hall.

I clung to him to stop him!

But he wrenched himself away

and fell back against the balcony rail

where it was being repaired.

I heard it break away.

He screamed!

Then I think I must have fainted.

The next thing I remember someone

was moving about, coming up the stairs.

I was frightened.

I found I could hardly get my breath.

But somehow I managed to get away.

Since then, I've been as you see me now.

I understand, Mrs.
Moreton, you're willing

to make the same statement elsewhere?

Thank you, Mrs. Moreton.

Thank you, Mrs. Moreton.

The war changed Tracey.

You wouldn't have known him before.

One must learn to forgive
the times one lives in.

Well, gentlemen, this surely puts

a very different complexion on the matter.

I entirely agree.

The money's been returned

and the criminal brought to booking.

And since I started this, I shall--

Branwell's conduct may
have been irregular--

Irregular, I should say so!

The point is, Branwell has heard

nothing about this for five months.

Exactly, exactly!

I started this and I'm
completely satisfied!

One moment, gentlemen, please!

- On the point of order!
- Gentlemen!

Thank you, Michael, you're
a very generous friend.

I just want to say this for myself.

Any decision this inquiry
comes to must be mine, too.

Now, that's not egotism or just old buck,

because in the last resort it's one's

own opinion of oneself that really counts.

And in my opinion, I don't
come out of this very well.

I've failed as an
adjuster because I failed

to see where my first duty lay.

I've failed as an ordinary citizen

because a private loyalty isn't enough

in a business founded on trust.

I'm resigning because it seems to me

to be the only honorable thing to do.

Thank you.

There you are, you see, Berkeley?

You see what happens?

It was not until we were walking away

through the market afterwards
that I realized how much

of my heart was in my job
and how much I loved it.

But I told myself my mind was made up.

I told Fred Connor, too.

And Michael and Berkeley Reckitt.

They said, couldn't we
talk it over quietly?

I told them no.

But then Sarah said, surely there

couldn't be any harm
in just discussing it.

And, well, there couldn't be any harm

in just discussing it, could there?