Original subtitles

My honoured British guests.

Luther is wanting to sell a second folio Shakespeare.

Exceptionally rare.

Giving us time to find out...

Discreetly...

...what happened to my father on December 5th, 1936.

And I'm afraid there's been a murder.

Ich fürchte, es hat einen Mord gegeben.

Knecht Ruprecht hits the children with a bag of ashes,

drowns them, or stuffs them in a sack

and carries them to hell.

You turn up here under false pretenses,

and then he claims to be my own flesh and blood.

I, I'm your grandson. I, I'm Felix's son.

A conspiracy that ends

with the deaths of Kaufmann and Duttweiler.

Everything all right back there?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Luther was paying for two patients at the sanatorium.

What the hell did you do to Felix?

Luther is the key to all this.

- I'm going to run. - Run? Where?

To England, to find, him.

- Book? - Yes.

Then you must go now.

Luther will be wondering where you are.

- Come with me, Irma. - What?

Come with me. Let's both get away

from this terrible place.

You don't need me, Felix.

But this, this will be of more help.

Good luck, my dear. Hurry now. Hurry.

Luther.

What a night. What a party.

Yeah.

BOOK (V.O.): That's it. That's all she says.

Felix took off.

Irma says she never saw him again.

Next day, he was dead.

So Irma's decided to trust us now,

and she knows who you are.

Uh, there was a photograph. Felix left it.

Are you all right?

Yeah, yeah. I j-I just, I didn't sleep much. Yeah.

So what happened to Felix then,

after Luther followed him?

Well, he must have followed him, right?

Caught him a- and

then took him back to the sanatorium.

Everything seems to lead back there,

so that's where we need to head as soon as we c--

It's Luther Von Bode.

Clues, developments, new leads?

Murdered.

Christ alive, who's next?

Alberta!

Hey, hey. Y-you don't suppose this, uh,

Knecht Ruprecht thing could, could actually--

I hardly think so.

- Alberta, please. - There's no kedgeree.

I can't eat this muck.

Alberta.

I specifically asked for kedgeree.

Haven't you told her?

Yes, of course he has.

But me starving isn't going to bring Luther back,

is it, Duttweiler?

Oh, no. Of course, he's dead too.

Hopeless.

I always said this place was like a morgue.

Now it's come true.

We need to get out of here.

- We can't. - Why the hell not?

Some nut job is out there picking people off.

Why should we stay here and wait for one of us to be next?

They can't keep us here.

You have all heard?

I know. No kedgeree.

No, no, no, no, no, not you, son.

I'm afraid you're too involved in all this

to be part of the investigation anymore.

Wait, I'm a suspect?

We have to consider every possibility.

Long-lost relative turns up out of the blue.

Within a few hours, the old man's been stabbed.

Come off it.

What would I want to do him in?

Quite, and we weren't even here

when the first murder happened.

Nevertheless.

Bear with, Jack.

I'm sure it'll all come out in the wash.

Killed at approximately midnight last night.

Death would've been pretty much instantaneous.

Letter knife in the ribs.

Nasty.

And rather mundane

given what we've become accustomed to.

No coal, no soot, no hanging in burlap.

Unless I'm much mistaken,

Knecht Ruprecht doesn't traditionally skewer his victims

with stationery equipment.

No.

- Ah! - What is it?

- Shakespeare folio. - What, nicked?

Missing, at any rate.

Ah. Would you mind?

Die Wahrheit wird ans Licht kommen.

Die Sonne wird es an den Tag bringen.

The truth will come to light.

The sun will reveal it.

Motto?

Sounds more like a threat, don't you think?

Sent to him then.

Well we'd better speak to our suspects again.

Pohl, can you arrange that?

Can't say I'll shed any tears for him.

"With coal, then sack, then switch of birch."

Where's the birch, Inspector?

Doesn't fit the pattern, does it?

It doesn't, fit.

Jack, you picked up a few things in prison, yes?

- A few tips. - Tips?

You know the sort of thing,

forging signatures, exchanging tobacco for favours,

- breaking and entering. - Oh, right.

Yeah, what's happened?

The Shakespeare folio is missing.

- What? - It's

gone from Luther's desk.

I need you to find out where it is.

Well it's obvious, isn't it?

- The Duchess. - We shall see.

We're about to start the questioning.

Everyone will be in and out all morning.

Righto. Leave it with me.

Oh and er, keep your wits about you.

Remember, there's a killer out there.

Thanks.

Anything else?

Er no, that's fine.

Eh Nora, do you have a minute?

Sit down, please.

My uncle doesn't like me to fraternise with the customers.

I'd hope I was rather more than a customer.

Oh?

We're friends, aren't we?

Are we?

Sit down. Please.

I'll answer to Yusuf, don't worry.

Well?

What's the matter, Nora?

You've been off with me all weekend.

Maybe I don't like the company.

What do you mean?

I've seen him.

That fella with the 'tache.

Coming and going. All hours.

Colonel Winters.

Oh. A soldier, is he?

Yeah. Looks the type.

He's a very good friend.

Obviously.

Look Nora. I'm not going to patronise you.

Tell you that this is grown up business

that only grownups can understand.

Thought you weren't going to patronise me?

It's complicated.

You and Mr Book.

The shop.

It's?

well I need it.

I need you.

Ever since my mum and dad died,

you've been the most important thing in the world to me.

Now Mr Book's away and you're off with soldier boy.

I don't want things to change.

Please don't change.

More tea?

No, thank you.

Ah, kintsugi.

You are familiar with the technique.

I was in Japan a little, before the war.

It's a method for repairing pottery

using gold-dusted lacquer,

the idea being not to disguise the breakage

but to show it.

To celebrate it.

Oh. Make do and mend.

Mr Attlee would approve.

Speaking of um delicate things...

last night, you were expecting Luther.

You were expecting him in your bed?

Well, that was hardly a secret.

She set her cap at Luther almost

as soon as her first husband died.

I mean, they tried to be discreet...

We also found Luther's will in his effects.

Madam Yamauchi stood to get the castle.

Gosh. So you mean she could've been miffed

that your young friend Jack stood to get the lot.

Acted swiftly and bumped off old Luther?

I say, the plot positively oozes doesn't it?

A long lost heir! A vengeful ghost!

Oh it's like something from a Victorian novel.

Wilkie Collins would have had a field day.

You seem rather to be enjoying this, your Grace.

Oh hell, yes!

I miss the war, don't you?

Nothing exciting enough about these days.

Where were you at midnight last night?

In bed, of course. Like everyone.

My husband can vouch for that.

Well I was already asleep

but I was aware of her coming in.

She's not exactly quiet.

And what time did she come to bed?

Eleven. Eleven fifteen.

No later than that.

You know, if you ask me, it's Irma

you need to put the thumbscrews on.

Because of her father.

He lost everything in the crash, we know.

Oh yeah. But it that was

because of Luther's bad advice.

You didn't know that, did you, Mr Book?

I didn't want to come back to this dreadful place.

But beggars can't be choosers.

You hated Luther.

God forgive me, but I'm glad he's dead.

- Because of him, my father... - Yes.

So why did Luther take you in?

Make you his ward?

I cannot believe it was conscience.

I rather suspect he had designs.

Oh, God.

Any woman was fair game to him.

The Master of the Schloss Von Bode.

Where were you at midnight last night?

Bed. Like everyone.

So you didn't deliver this in person, then?

I left the castle...

must've been elevenish.

Passed Luther's study.

The Duchess appeared from that direction,

she didn't see me.

I watched her go up the stairs.

Then Luther came and went in.

So he was alive then at least.

I knocked on his door.

I popped my head round. But he wasn't there.

Why did you want to see him?

Well. We're old friends.

I thought you said

he didn't have any friends?

You will think me dishonourable, I know.

But as you yourself said, a widow's life...

we were both so very lonely.

No one here is judging you, Madam.

How long was Luther--

He was with me till about eleven.

Then he said he had work to do,

in the study.

He often worked till late...

This,

this was Luther.

I accepted his imperfections.

He could be cruel.

So cruel.

I had made peace with that.

And now, now he has gone.

But he has provided for me.

You know, word's got round

about exactly what you were to poor old Felix.

Walls have ears.

Well... I do anyway.

It seems to me that,

despite you sitting in that chair

with your copper chums,

we could be asking you the same questions.

The man who locked your lover up in the loony bin?

And left him to die?

Where were you last night, Mr Book?

Inspector, I wonder if I could take

Fraülein Pohl to the sanatorium too?

My German is a little rusty.

Might as well. Pohl?

Yeah, certainly.

She's wasting her time here anyway.

Every bugger can speak English already.

Well?

I've looked everywhere.

Wardrobes. Suitcases. Knicker drawers.

What about the library?

Oh...

That's where I'd hide a book.

I was so sorry to hear about Dr Kaufmann.

Oh indeed.

I gather he was a very great friend

to the hospital for many years.

I knew him only a little.

I have been here only for a month or so.

Ah.

Er, may I please ask you to wait here for a moment.

This is very irregular.

Your letter from Dr Kaufmann

was most certainly sent from here.

But there is a disparity.

The death certificate

matches the one you have.

But yours says that Felix Von Bode died here

at the Sanatorium.

The records however...

Yes?

released to family.

And no mention of him coming back here.

Dead or alive.

Perhaps a simple

administrative error or...?

Perhaps.

I am also interested in something else.

According to my information,

Luther Von Bode

had been paying board and lodging here as early as 1912.

That must have been for another patient.

What can you tell me about them?

That would be absolutely confidential.

Oh we have full authority.

From Inspector Bliss of the Control Commission.

Yes, a young woman was admitted

under Dr Kaufmann in the Autumn of 1912.

The records are not as complete

as they might be...

the War, the First one.

The patient appears to have been with child.

Which is not uncommon.

Her name?

Sabine Hoff.

And when was she released?

Never. She died here.

And she died only recently.

In October this year.

How sad.

And frustrating.

Perhaps there's someone

who can help you...

Ah... Sister Gorgonia but unfortunately her mind is...

erm... um... please follow me.

I'll have the fishcakes if I may.

Off.

Oh. I'll have the kippers?

Off.

- Eh Bacon? - Off.

What about sausages?

Surely you can run to sausages?

Sorry. It's the rationing, ain't it?

Worse than during the War!

Well what do you have?

- Eggs. - All right.

Can you run to an omelette?

Course! Powdered.

Fine.

Charming girl.

I think I'm falling in love with you, Mrs Book.

You realise that, don't you?

That's your cue.

Well, it's complicated.

You know, Reggie.

I'm very happy.

Are you really?

There's no part of you that feels

that you're settling for second best?

No one's got to me as you have.

I've not felt like this since?

Well, you know?

Angela.

Yeah. Memsahib, yes.

But I know she'd want me to be happy,

to make a new life for myself.

What I wanna know is,

- Trottie... - Yes?

Could that new life,

be with you?

I have work. I leave you to it.

- Thank you. - Danke,

Schwester Irmingart.

Reverend Sister.

I understand you knew a Sabine Hoff?

Ah the wickedness of the world.

And of men. That poor creature?

What can you tell me of her?

All alone in the world.

Apart for one visitor.

A niece, I think.

She came here on occasion.

- A good child.

Can you describe her?

:

A slim? pale? red-headed.

A striking young woman.

And the child?

Das Kind?

The child born out of wedlock. What became of that?

Given up to relatives.

As many were.

Ach, die Schlechtigkeit der Welt.

Well, thank you, Sister. You've been very helpful.

Both of you.

It's really not the same without you.

Well that's sweet of you to say.

I wish this damn connection were better.

You feel like you're, a million miles away.

Can I be of any help? I'd like to be.

Anything you want to get off your chest?

Three things?

Oh more than three?

- Oh good! - The servant's entrance?

'eau de cologne du coq'?

and?

and a child born out of wedlock?

'Eau de cologne du coq'?

Yes! The butler was smothered in it.

Good heavens. Was he?

He was.

Got to be for a woman, no?

- You think? - Of course.

Men rarely make the effort

unless it's for an affair of the heart,

in my experience.

Thank you, darling.

And what about the child?

Born out of wedlock?

Do you know who it is?

Yes I think so.

I'm just, struggling to believe that they were involved?

Well you know, good people?

good people sometimes find themselves

doing things that they know they shouldn't.

How's Nora? And Dog?

All well, thanks.

Good. Good.

Well, good luck, darling.

I'll be thinking of you.

Yes.

Goodbye, Mrs Book.

Goodbye, Mr Book.

Oh, Dog, what am I going to do?

"The truth will come to light.

The sun will reveal it."

This case began in the realm of fairytales.

Had Knecht Ruprecht, helpmate of St. Nicholas,

really come to punish the wicked?

Certainly, Dr Kaufmann, Duttweiler,

and in particular Luther Von Bode

were very wicked men.

But this is 1946 and we are not savages.

There was no supernatural element behind all this.

Instead, there was a keen intelligence.

Whose, though?

Luther was offering for sale a copy

of the Second Folio of Shakespeare.

It was locked in his study,

then after his murder, it was gone.

Someone made off with it.

An extensive search of this castle

has failed to reveal its whereabouts.

Let us consider then this keen intelligence.

As I said to Mr Blunt here, if I were hiding a book,

I would hide it in a library.

But where?

Where is the Shakespeare Folio?

Oh, don't look at me.

I've never even read it.

Dreary.

I find that very hard to believe.

Anyone who knows the nom de guerre

used by Oscar Wilde in Exile,

anyone familiar with the works of Wilkie Collins,

anyone as much of a literary connoisseur as you appear to be

would surely know her way around the Bard.

And you'd never stick the Folio just any old place,

would you, your Grace?

Not when you enjoy the game so much.

The Second Folio is notable

for containing the first published poem

by John Milton.

Oh. Really?

"What needs my Shakespeare

for his honoured bones,

The labour of an age in piled stones?

Or that his hallowed reliques be hid--

Ah.

...under a stary pointing pyramid?"

Give that to me!

It's mine!

'Property of the Royal Collection'.

- See! - Indeed.

So why was Luther offering it for sale?

He had no right to.

I, I let him borrow it for a while.

Donkey's years ago.

But you did visit him in his study?

- Yes... - and killed him?

- No! - That's insane.

I told you, she was in bed with me from 11:15.

Thank you.

I saw her coming from the direction of Luther's study.

Then I saw him. He was alive.

Just so.

The Duchess liberated the Folio from the study,

but she did not kill Luther.

Thank God you've come to your senses.

Anyway, enough about the folio. No one cares about that.

Who killed Luther?

And the other buggers?

Well, in Dr Kaufmann's records,

I found mention of Luther's payments

for Felix's time in the sanatorium

and something else, something curious:

entries for another patient.

Luther had someone else incarcerated in there?

Precisely, someone who'd been there since 1912,

an unmarried mother, one Sabine Hoff.

Sabine Hoff, maid, dismissed.

She was a parlour maid here at the castle,

and she was put away because she was bearing someone's child.

Whose?

Luther's, of course.

Not his only victim, I imagine.

Now, I think that child was told the story

of their unfortunate mother's fate

and swore revenge, on the doctor who had,

with the stroke of his pen, incarcerated her,

on the butler, who must have turned a blind eye

to the crime and on the terrible,

powerful man who had so brutalized their mother.

And when the mother died,

they made a plan to wreak revenge

at Christmas, to invoke the spirit of Knecht Ruprecht

and punish the wicked, for real this time.

Yeah, but, but who?

A slight, pale, striking woman with red hair.

- What? - According

to the elderly nun who saw her in the sanatorium

year after year.

No. This is madness. I have nothing--

You passed Luther's study last night.

- Why? - To deliver this?

The handwriting is unquestionably yours.

It matches the note you wrote to me.

You had a busy night.

He'd thrown you out, and Jack.

I couldn't bear to see him being so cruel again.

I just wanted him to know I had not forgotten

my father's death,

nor yours.

A slight, pale, striking woman with red hair.

That's what the old nun told us.

Or at least that was the translation

I was given in, I'm sorry to say,

a slightly panicked and clumsy attempt to disguise the truth.

Because the description she actually gave

was of you, Fraülein Pohl.

- Eh? - What?

My German is not as rusty as I led you to believe.

I let you come to the sanatorium

because I already suspected

that you were something to do with this.

You knew all about the servants' entrance

at the back of the castle.

I could have read about that.

- Anyone could. - But how could you know

it was never locked?

The parish records were easy to locate.

I went to the church here in Würl.

Sabine Hoff's sister married a man called Pohl.

They took you in, raised you as their own.

And you visited your Aunt Sabine.

For years you visited her.

And then, only on her deathbed, I imagine...?

Yes. She told me.

She was my mother.

My poor mother.

How Luther Von Bode had forced himself upon her

all those years ago,

how they put her away to shut her up.

Those men.

Those damned men.

Oh, what a mess.

Kaufmann was easy.

I drugged him with some of his own narcotics.

And Duttweiler?

He'd been making an effort, hadn't he?

Eau de cologne du coq.

That was a slip.

How would you know the brand? I never mentioned it.

No one paid that brute much attention.

He was easily flattered

and easily drugged.

I sent him a note,

arranged to meet him by the stables

to discuss our future.

Seemed like a fitting end.

And then you turned your attention

to the ultimate prize:

the man who forced himself on your mother all those years ago.

I had such elaborate plans.

The final part of the Knecht Ruprecht scheme,

a wooden switch rammed down his gullet.

But instead, you stabbed him with a letter knife.

What happened?

He fought back.

Is that all?

Yes.

Things don't always go according to plan, Herr Book.

The old devil fought back. He was stronger than he looked.

Are you sure?

Luther is dead.

All the guilty men are dead.

Knecht Ruprecht has punished the wicked.

Justice has been served.

That's all that matters, isn't it?

Inspector, can I have a minute with her?

- What? With Pohl? - Yeah.

I just realized that she's...

well we're related, ain't we?

She's the only family I've got left.

Oh. Yes. I suppose you're right.

I just wanna, I dunno, just say something to her.

All right, son. Just five minutes.

Er? ich kann fünf Minuten haben

mit der Frau?

Thanks.

Picked up a bit, didn't I?

Well! What a turn up.

I suppose we're all free to leave

this benighted place now, aren't we?

Quite free, your Grace.

Oh, oh sorry, there is just one thing.

Ah, bit of admin, as it were.

If you did borrow the Shakespeare folio

- from the Royal Collection? - I did.

Then we just need your signature

to show it was all above board.

To establish provenance.

I'm sure you understand.

- Pen. - Oh,

here, your Grace.

[chuckles] Oh? Silly me.

Yes. Well that all seems very satisfactory.

Come along, Guy.

I've had enough of this bloody country.

Oh, can anyone rustle us up a cup of coffee?

No?

No staff, I suppose.

All dead.

"I, Alberta, Duchess of Somerset,

freely confess that I stole the second folio of Shakespeare

from the Royal Collection."

- What the hell? - "Furthermore, I confess

to diverse other instances of theft

from the Royal Household, to wit?"

What is this?

Oh, just a simple substitution,

I'm afraid, Your Grace.

Terribly underhand of me, I know,

but all terribly legal.

Terribly compelling, too.

You see, the British authorities

wish it to be known that there is only so much

to which they are prepared to turn a blind eye.

And now, as the Americans are one to say,

they have got the goods on you.

You impertinent little man.

I'm six foot one in my stocking feet.

And I enjoy the game too.

I think we should return that to its proper owner, don't you?

What was that?

I think perhaps Madam Yamauchi

just discovered that all she's inherited

is a pile of debt.

Catch.

Thank you.

And I'd keep my head down from now on, your Grace,

if I were you.

Me? Why should I?

It's all been heaps of fun, actually.

And I was just feeling a little bit glum

because I've nobody to crow to about quite how clever I am.

Not even your husband?

Oh, Christ, no.

You don't think I'd trust Guy with all this, do you?

He doesn't even know that

to maintain our lavish lifestyle,

our fairly lavish lifestyle,

I've been flogging stuff all over the place.

It's the perfect cover, you see. A life of pleasure and parties.

We flit around the globe--

Like locusts.

Lotus eaters, my dear.

Lotus eaters.

Cases are in the car.

What? What's happened?

You know, darling,

I don't think I'm in the mood for coffee after all.

I think I'm going to order champagne.

Off with their bloody heads.

Quite.

Penny for them?

I was just thinking?

all the guilty men are dead,

or at least Liesl Pohl said,

and she's right.

We'll never know what actually happened to Felix.

Maybe we do know, Mr Book.

What do you mean?

Liesl Pohl knows what happened.

- She told me. - What?

You know when I asked the Inspector

for a moment with her?

She told me the whole bloody thing.

Going somewhere, Master Felix?

Very neat, my son.

But you must know that your father

will always be one step ahead of you.

Now, come back inside.

No.

Come back inside.

Why?

So you can pretend that all is well?

Or so you can send me back to that terrible place to,

to cure me?

I would rather die.

Duttweiler. Fetch him.

Liesl Pohl told you this?

- How could she possibly know? - Her mother.

She heard the whole story.

Duttweiler arrived at the sanatorium,

with Felix's body.

Come, Master Felix.

Be a good boy.

The time for games is over.

You must come back.

I told you already, I would rather die.

So be it.

Duttweiler.

Help!

Duttweiler fished him out,

took him back to the sanatorium

and they agreed to tell everyone that he died there,

to hush it up.

I see.

So now we do know, Mr Book.

Yes.

Now we know.

Thank you, Jack.

Would you excuse me?

I just need a moment.

Yeah. Yeah, of course.

"He is not here, but far away.

The noise of life begins again.

Henceforth, wherever thou mayst roam,

my blessing, like a line of light?"

"Is on the waters day and night,

and like a beacon guards thee home."

Shop?

How queer.

Where is everybody? It's not a half day closing.

Oh well.

Tea?

Thought you'd never ask.

Thanks.

Oh.

That's good to be home.

Yes.

What is it?

It's no good.

It doesn't add up, does it, Jack?

What do you mean?

Felix's body was never sent back to the sanatorium,

so Liesl's mother

couldn't have overheard the account of his death,

could she?

How long have you known?

Since I found your footprints outside the castle.

Those wretched hobnail boots of yours.

There'd been a fresh fall of snow.

You went back there in secret.

Then there was that little slip.

What happened to Felix then,

after Luther followed him?

Irma's account ended at the door,

but you knew that Luther had followed Felix.

And you could only have known that

if someone else had told you.

And it wasn't Liesl Pohl,

was it, Jack?

I didn't mean to do it.

As God as my witness,

I had to speak to him again,

get some answers,

find out what happened to my dad.

So I went back to the castle.

I got in through the servant's entrance

and there he was,

in his study as you know.

I do not care about the documents.

I no longer even care if you are my grandson.

- What? - That you are

an associate, a friend,

an intimate of that unnatural creature,

Book, that is enough.

Oh yeah, I know who he is.

That is why I threw you out of my home.

But there is more to this.

Within twenty-four hours of your arrival,

both Kaufmann and Duttweiler are dead.

Is that mere coincidence?

I think not.

You have cast yourself in the role of Knecht Ruprecht,

punisher of the wicked.

Ah, you laugh, boy, but you know it is true.

I just want to know what happened that night,

to Felix.

Just put me out of my misery.

Tell me what happened to my dad.

Put you out of your misery?

He told me.

He told me the whole story.

That is what I did.

What I did to your father.

I put him out of everyone's misery,

like a diseased animal.

How could you?

How could you?

Keep back.

You monster.

- You sick, sick? - Get back!

You think I'm afraid of you, boy?

I am a Von Bode.

Hear me? A Von Bode!

You stupid nutter?

I can't remember what happened after that.

Not properly.

I know that I remembered

to clean the handle of the knife, at least.

I wanted to tell you, Mr Book,

what I'd done,

but I was scared.

You spend your life solving crimes,

uncovering murderers.

What if you turned me in?

You put me in an impossible situation, Jack.

I know.

I know.

You don't make exceptions.

I never meant to kill him, Mr Book.

It'll be manslaughter, won't it?

Self-defence if I'm lucky.

You'll write me a character reference though,

won't you at least?

No. Jack, wait. Let's talk about this.

No. No, Mr Book.

The law must take its course.

You're not obliged to say anything

unless you wish to do so,

but anything you do say will be taken down in writing

and may be given in evidence.

Don't be long, ducky. There's a car waiting.

What the hell is going on?

There are always opportunities

for resourceful young men

keen to serve king and country,

and it seems to me that you're very resourceful.

A blunt instrument, if you like.

Well, well, smart as paint.

Savile Row?

Whitehall, I reckon.

Clever boy.

I'm right, ain't I?

- This scheme is? - Too good to resist.

New suit, new shoes, new identity.

Really, we're spoiling you.

And I'd be mad not to take it.

But?

It just don't sit right with me, Mr Book.

How can I accept it?

How can I just go

when you know what you know?

"The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

upon the place beneath.

It is twice blessed.

It blesseth him that gives

and him that takes."

For the sake of everything that's gone before,

do this for me, Jack.

Please.

- But won't it-- - Put me deeply

and irrevocably in their debt?

Yes, I'm afraid so.

I always wondered, you know,

what it would be like to have a child.

A son.

And you?

And you've been?

- I mean, you've been? - Pig-headed, impossible,

contrary, egregious.

What have you done?

- Swallowed a dictionary. - At birth.

I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Nor me.

Okay.

It's a deal.

What larks, eh, Pip?

No, Mr Book.

That ain't my name.

It's Jack.

Just Jack.

You know where to find me.

Yeah.

158 Archangel Lane.

With your books.

Nora,

Dog,

and Trottie.

Well?

It's all going according to plan.