Original subtitles

THEME SONG PLAYING...

Hup, hup, hup. Whee!

What...

- Enjoying your little game, are you? - What was that, Lugg?

I suppose you may condescend eventually to tell me where we're going.

- Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't I say? East Anglia. - Business or pleasure?

Business. I'm interested in an attack on

an elderly resident of a place called Pontisbright,

- reported in the local paper. - Who is she?

Miss Harriet Hunting forest.

Sounds like one of your weird pseudo-names.

Seems an intruder entered her house.

Ransacked it. She surprised him and was thereupon...

...felled to the ground.

- What was taken? - Nothing. Obviously, the assailant

didn't find whatever it was he was after.

"Miss Hunting forest later described him to the police as

"of unusual build, and possessing a pronounced widow's peak."

- Widow's peak? - Yes.

Peaky Doyle, I'll bet. Can't be two like that.

- One of the old fraternity? - We've had the odd brush.

What's he doing beating up old ladies, I'd like to know?

He used to work for the big time. A bloke called Savanake.

Brett Savanake?

Eager-Wright. Good to see you.

Guffy.

Last thing I heard, you were off in foreign parts.

- Campion's beaten me to it, I see. - Yes.

I say, what's all this about?

Well, I think we'd better all be sitting down...

Right, Guffy, let's put you in the picture.

Eager-Wright and I are about to embark on a little mission.

- Government business? - Most secret and urgent.

- You can rely on me. - Well, that's why we want you with us.

That, and the fact you're a local man. Do you know a place called Pontisbright?

Yes, it's not far from here. Good fishing, I'm told.

Does the name Hunting forest mean anything to you?

A Miss Harriet Hunting forest?

The old girl who got bashed over the head by a burglar?

I don't know her myself, but I believe she's related to the Fitton family.

- Now, they own the old mill at Pontisbright... - Ah-ha.

- Fitton. So that's the link. - I'm sorry?

Between Miss Hunting forest, Peaky Doyle, the Earls of Pontisbright,

and the kingdom of Averna.

I'm afraid you've lost me entirely.

Worry not. All will become crystal clear.

Eager.

This is a rough map I made of Averna.

Small country in the Balkans.

Of more than passing interest to our government, amongst others.

- Ought I to have heard of the place? - Not really.

- It isn't much, as kingdoms go. - How large is it?

- About 800. - Square miles?

- Acres. - Ah.

About nine months ago, there was a minor earthquake in those parts.

Shook up a bit of Italy, broke the windows in Belgrade.

No one attached any importance to it. Until, that is,

Eager here went climbing in the Bosnian Alps.

Brought back some rather interesting snaps.

Up to last year, Averna was just a small patch of land surrounded by rocks.

As a result of this earthquake,

it now sports a natural harbour.

- There's also oil there. - By George, a natural harbour?

With natural fuel? And on the Adriatic?

There you are, Eager. Told you, Guffy would absorb it in one.

Yes, but where does Pontisbright come into all this?

Ah, well,

the Earls of Pontisbright used to be hereditary rulers of Averna.

Unfortunately, the last Earl was killed in the Crimean War.

Hang on. I have a feeling those Fitton people you were talking about

tried to claim the title not that long ago, actually.

So, to sum up, all Whitehall requires of us

is to demonstrate, incontrovertibly, that Averna is British territory.

Otherwise, I'm afraid, it will fall into foreign hands.

If we could prove the Fittons were heirs to the Pontisbright title...

Not quite so simple, old boy. The actual proofs of Averna's seigneur ship

have disappeared over the years. We have to trace them.

So what exactly are we looking for?

Item, one crown, made by the fifth Earl in 1400.

One set of deeds, drawn up and signed by Henry IV.

And finally, a very rum one, but most important.

Apparently, the 15th Earl was secretly backed by the British government,

in 1815, to reinforce his title to the kingdom.

Money changed hands. Somewhere, there's the receipt for it.

From none other than Count Maeterlinck,

who was busy rearranging Europe at the time.

I say, this is a sort of treasure hunt.

An extremely dangerous treasure hunt

if, as it looks, we'll be up against Brett Savanake.

A multi-multi-millionaire. One of those financial geniuses

that turn up now and again. Chairman of a dozen giant international companies.

Finger in every imaginable pie and at the moment, a thorn in our government's flesh.

Never photographed, never interviewed. Keeps well out of the limelight.

Probably because of a very murky past.

Savanake's now one of the most powerful men in Europe.

And this Averna business is big enough for him?

Right. Where do we start? The Balkans?

I'm afraid not. It'll have to be Pontisbright.

Oh, Campion?

I called in at the British Museum yesterday.

They managed to dig up a description of the Pontisbright crown,

not that it's very illuminating.

"Three drops of blood from a royal womb,

"three dull stars like a pigeon's egg,

"held and knit together with a flowery chain.

"Yet when a Pontisbright do wear it, none shall see it but the stars."

If you ask me, the geezer what wrote that had a screw loose.

Lower Dunning? Little Sweffling?

Sweethearting? Why can't they call them proper names?

Like "Elephant and Castle"?

- "Sweethearting" rings a bell. - What does that broken sign say?

Hop out, Lugg. Have a look.

I hate the country.

- "Pontis-bright." - That's it.

But we pronounce it "Pontsbury".

Pontsbury.

Here, have a look.

Some sort of queer mark.

- Boy Scouts, is it? - No, Lugg, it isn't.

- Do you know what it means? - Yes.

At the time of the Black Death it would be found on every door.

It's a sort of fear sign.

Is there a public house in this here Pontisbright?

Lugg always gets his priorities right.

There's an inn called the Gauntlett. I believe they let rooms.

Pretty as a picture, ain't it?

Those must be the gates of old Pontisbright Hall.

- Any idea who lives there now? - No, the house is a ruin.

When the title lapsed, the place was dismantled

- and sold off, piece by piece. - I see.

Look lovely covered with snow.

Well, let's put Lugg out of his misery.

Let's only hope the quality of the beer don't make it all a mockery.

Good evening. Three pints of local brew, please.

And a half.

And I'd like to book accommodation for four people.

- You want to stay here? - For a week. Maybe more.

Well, I'm so sorry, sir, that won't be possible.

- You do let rooms? - Well, yes, sir, but...

We're not taking guests at present.

Ah.

- Full up, are you? - No.

That wouldn't be honest, if I were to say that. But...

We're expecting the decorators.

Well, I'm sure they won't be arriving at 6:00 in the evening.

Maybe you could just manage the one night.

Only the one night, mind.

- Not very keen on visitors here, are you? - We have our reasons.

- Quiet, isn't it? - As the grave.

You, uh, fancy a go?

Sixpence a game.

- A shilling. - You're on.

Here is the top.

Up from London, then, are you?

Yes. You local?

Born and bred.

- I work up yonder, at the mill. - People name of Fitton?

Yeah. That's right. There's three of them.

Miss Mary, Miss Amanda, young Master Hal.

What do you do up there?

Oh, I help Miss Amanda with her electricals,

'cause that's mostly what the mill's for, these days.

Got a dynamo charging up batteries and that.

Must bring in about £30 a year.

Not that I couldn't do with it...

I saw you slip that coin in with your sleeve.

Old trick of mine, too.

- Right. I'll bet you fair and square. - Will you?

When the great bell rings again.

There ain't no one beat Scatty Williams yet.

Right.

Watch boy told me they was thinking of taking in PGs up at the mill.

Paying guests!

Could do with a bit of the ready.

- Said you'd call round first thing in the morning. - Well done, Lugg.

Blimey! Praise from his master's lips.

Well, if you're done with me, I think I'll take a stroll. Touch of indigestion.

Who is it?

It's me. Lugg. Come quick.

There's the path. You'll see in a minute.

It's an old man, by the look of it. Stiff as you like.

Fair gave me a turn. A corpse is one thing,

but a corpse laid out on a blasted heath...

Stone me!

- Nice night for rabbiting. - I saw him.

Look, you can see for yourself that's where he was lying.

So, at 10:00 last night, Lugg was marching me across the heath

to see a corpse that wasn't there.

I don't know. There's something very odd going on here.

What an extraordinary contraption!

It looks like the thing the governor paid a man ten bob to take away

- before the war. - I think that's a Baker Electric.

Right, come on, Guffy. Let's take a look around.

Good idea. Campion, you go make the arrangements.

Morning, sir.

You must be with Mr Lugg's party.

Come in, mister, come in. The lady's expecting you.

Uh...

What name shall I say, Mr Campion?

Mr Albert Campion, miss.

Ma'am.

Thank you, Scatty.

How do you do? My name is Amanda Fitton.

How do you do?

I'm sure this will suit you.

The house, as you will have observed, is very old.

Has a fascinating history.

There are remarkable facilities for

fishing, walking, even motoring.

You may have noticed the car outside.

Indeed.

Bought it off a higler for a pound.

Where was I?

Yes. Would five guineas be too much?

Five guineas each?

Oh, no. All together.

We do have electric light.

Well, in some of the rooms.

That sounds fine. Um...

Let me give you our recommendations.

We're all house-trained, good-tempered,

and apart from my man Lugg, remarkably well-mannered.

He is, however, extremely handy about the house.

And we'd intended to pay three guineas a week.

Each.

Each?

Do you think we'll suit you?

Oh, yes.

Do you mind shabby furniture?

I mean, tears and things.

Nothing, in my opinion, gives a house more old world charm than tears in furniture.

Oh, good.

I'll open the curtains then. Hang on.

We had these two women hikers who called once

but the drawing room put them off.

That's why I made the room dark.

And I'm wearing my aunt's best dress.

Well, what do you think?

Enchanting.

So you'll stay then? Oh, splendid.

Now come and meet Aunt Hatt.

There is just one other thing. You have to find out sooner or later.

Of course you can always use one of those flat, round things.

I really wouldn't mind fetching the water.

- You have no bathrooms? - Do you mind awfully?

Actually, it's rather fun in one of those round things.

- Any luck? - Yes.

They're paying three guineas a week, each.

They don't mind there not being a bathroom.

This is Mr Campion.

- Oh! I'm so sorry I didn't notice you. - Not at all.

May I introduce my aunt to you? Miss Hunting forest.

How do you do, Miss Hunting forest?

I must get into my working clothes and get the car back into the shed.

We only left it out to impress you.

We're on holiday.

Well, business.

Well, business and pleasure.

Eager-Wright is writing a book on the history of the area.

An author? Really?

How interesting.

Have a bun.

Lugg said something about them charging batteries.

Looks like fun.

I wonder what's up here.

Is someone there?

Oh, I say, I'm dreadfully sorry.

You must be one of the gentlemen looking for accommodation.

Yes. Allow me to introduce myself.

- Augustus Randall. - I'm Mary Fitton.

I hope I didn't startle you.

My friend and I were just looking around.

- Do you think you'll take the rooms? - I'm sure we will.

Would you like to see my loom?

Hello! I'm Hal Fitton! Will you be staying with us?

Maybe.

I hope so. We're desperate for the money.

I had no idea there was any family connection

till I read the announcement of their father's death.

So I came to Pontisbright.

Have another bun.

Go on. It's my acid test.

If a man can eat two currant buns before noon,

there's nothing much wrong with him.

I hadn't been here a day before I decided to take things in hand.

Well, there was young Amanda running around like a little gypsy

without a single mended stocking to her name.

Guffy, what's happened?

Eager, come and have a look!

I'm perfectly all right.

- What's happened? - Guffy and the wall.

Miss Fitton here was showing me how to work her loom.

He lost his footing and crashed down.

Dry rot. I've said it over and over again.

He was all right. But struggling back he caught his forearm under a nail.

It's nothing, I've just pierced the skin.

Nothing? It's a beastly gash. He'll have to have stitches.

You must take him to Dr Galley.

- No, honestly. - Well, you can't go around with a tear like that.

It needs to be sewn up straightaway.

We'll walk up with you.

Well, in that case.

I must go back to the kitchen.

Make yourself at home. I'll bring you another bun.

Hello, again! What is all that fuss about out there?

Uh, one of the chaps had an accident, fell through the floorboards.

Oh, Lord! He's not badly hurt, is he?

No, I don't think so, but they've taken him over to the doctor's.

- Uh, Galley, is it? - Yes.

I say, I hope he is not too rusted.

Village cobbler in his spare time, anything like that?

No, nothing like that.

Well, I better go and find Lugg,

get him to fetch our things from the Gauntlett.

You know, I rather think the country has gone to his head.

He went out for a walk last night

and came back with some ridiculous story about a corpse on the heath.

How extraordinary!

Come and see the mill, I will show you the oak.

Not that there's much to see, really.

It's the only Pontisbright heirloom we've got.

But it doesn't really count as an heirloom because we stole it.

Oh, could you help me get the car up to the coach house?

Although doesn't really count as stealing because nobody wanted it except us.

After all, Hal is the Earl of Pontisbright even if we can't prove it.

I think that you'd better take your jacket off.

I'm sorry, but the battery's flat.

Thank you.

All right.

You see, the last Earl of Pontisbright had a son called Giles,

and he fell in love with this stunning girl called Mary Fitton.

But her father was only a knight,

so his parents were dead against them marrying.

Especially his mother, Josephine, who sounds an absolute monster...

You're doing jolly well.

Anyway, then the Crimea happened,

and Giles rode over to Sweethearting

and asked Mary to marry him, and she said yes.

And they persuaded the local clergyman to do it right away, marry them, that is.

- Are you following me? - Just.

Remind me to tell you the story of my life sometime.

I will. Anyway, then Giles went away to war, but he was killed in Balaklava.

So Mary went to see the dreaded Josephine and told her about marriage.

Only, she refused to believe it

'cause she didn't want to accept the baby as heir.

She was pregnant by then, you see,

Mary, that is.

But surely the ceremony was recorded?

Ah, but the page disappeared from the register.

Josephine must have persuaded the rector.

Sounds an awful little wet.

Said that there'd never been any marriage.

So, poor Mary Fitton was disowned along with all her descendants.

My father tried to claim back the title, but he failed.

And it cost him everything he had, which is why we have to take in PGs.

I say, you're not too exhausted, are you?

- No, no. - Oh, good.

'Cause the oak's right at the top of the mill.

Took six people to get it up here including me.

You stole this?

Well, at any rate, we took it.

Very determined of you. Where was it?

On the tree, of course.

In the grounds of the old hall.

Must have been chopped down at some point and had a sundial put on it.

Can you help me turn it around please?

Anyway, Hal and I found it a couple of years ago

and we stole a slice off it with Scatty's help.

Was a tremendous business cutting it.

I might have thrown my hand in

if it hadn't been for the inscription.

The inscription?

It was covered in moss when we found it, but we cleaned it up,

and as you can see, we can read it quite clearly.

"If Pontisbright would crowned be,

"three strange happenings must he see.

"The diamond must be rent in twain, before he wear his crown again.

"Thrice must the mighty bell be toll'd,

"and then thrice more, the truth t'unfold.

"And ere he to his birthright come, stricken must be Malplaquet drum."

- Jolly, isn't it? - Very.

I say, do you mind if I scribble this down?

It might help Eager-Wright with his book.

Nothing like a secret inscription or two,

to give the author's work that authentic touch.

Isn't it time you dropped all this book business?

We do know who you are, you know.

Aunt Hatt is very good friends with some people called Craddock.

She heard all about you from them.

Put not your trust in Craddocks.

Well, that's why we're so keen on you coming to stay,

apart from the money, of course.

And why I've shown you all this.

Well, does it interest you or doesn't it?

- Yes, it does. - Because of Averna, I suppose.

- Miss Fitton? - Amanda.

Look, we want to prove it belongs to Hal,

you want to prove it's British.

So we might as well join forces.

I'll be a jolly good lieutenant.

Amanda!

This has got to be kept quiet.

Promise. But you will let me know if there's anything I can do, won't you?

- Yes. - Good.

Tell me, about the heath last night.

Please forget about that.

It's nothing to do with this.

Promise.

"If Pontisbright would crowned be,

"three strange happenings must he see.

"The diamond must be rent in twain, before he wear his crown again.

"Thrice must the mighty bell be toll'd..."

Um...

"And then thrice more..." "And then thrice more..."

"...the truth t'unfold."

"And ere he to his birthright come, stricken must be Malplaquet drum."

If we gotta work out this load of codswallop, we'll be here till Christmas.

I say, Lugg, I hate to disturb you, but could you possibly fetch my jacket?

Where you getting off to anyway?

The rectory.

Getting the parson, eh?

There is no parson in Pontisbright.

Visiting curate cycles over from Sweethearting.

No, it's the doctor, who stitched up Guffy's arm,

who lives in the old rectory, and we're invited to partake

of a glass of port after dinner.

Are you indeed? Well, I've been invited to partake of a jug of ale,

- with Scatty Williams, here. - Hmm.

What's that about a bell in that rhyme?

"Thrice must the mighty bell be toll'd,

"then thrice more the truth t'unfold."

Wonder, if it is the same bell?

Would you care to elucidate?

I hear Scatty use this expression, in the pub, last night.

"When the great bell rings again", meaning that'll be the day, like.

Interesting.

Apparently, he inherited this house from his great uncle,

the very last vicar of Pontisbright.

How long ago was that?

About, 40 years or so.

So, Galley's great grandfather could have been the feeble cleric

that married Giles Pontisbright to Mary Fitton.

Hello, there!

How good of you to take pity on me!

My little sanctuary seldom has the benefit of enlightened conversation.

Mr Campion, I presume.

- How do you do? - How do you do?

I was telling Campion about your garden, Doctor.

My one hobby. Let me show you.

Wonderful smell of herbs!

These are all plants under the Moon, Venus, and Mercury.

The flowers of the Sun are in the back.

Come and see the view from there while it's still light enough.

There. What do you think of that?

We call it Cain's Valley, the valley of the accursed.

And that, alas, my friends, is what it is.

Great bell you say, Magers? Ten.

Fifteen-two. Yeah, where is it in the town?

Oh, it ain't, that's the whole point, not any more.

That used to hang in the tower of Pontisbright Hall.

Quite famous, it was too.

- 25. - Thirty to one.

Yeah, they do say, there's only one other like, in the whole wide world,

that's in some convent in the Pyrenees.

What happened to it then?

Oh, got melted down for guns in the Zulu War. Ten.

Fifteen for two.

So that's why, you say, "When the great bell rings again."

'Cause it won't. Never.

Oh, I wouldn't say, never. Twenty-five.

Thirty for one. How's that?

Not now, you might hear it if there is a flood, famine or worse.

How's that?

Well, they do say, if there is a calamity in these parts,

the ghostly voice of that bell can be heard all over this valley.

You turnip heads will believe anything, but you won't believe this.

Excellent port.

From my great uncle's cellar.

It was full of it when I came here.

Getting back to the valley of the accursed.

Ah, yes.

But first I must beg that, none of you,

will ever divulge these facts to a newspaper.

We don't want any royal commissions

or gigantic hospitals to rob us of our freedom.

When I said, the village was under a curse,

I said, no more than the literal truth.

My dear young people,

you must get away from Pontisbright as soon as you possibly can.

From what exactly, are we supposed to flee?

A peculiarly horrible form of skin disease akin to lupus.

I'll not worry you with the medical term.

Suffice it to say, that it is incurable.

It's in the air you breathe. The soil you walk upon.

Even the water you drink is impregnated with poison.

- But surely the county council... - Never.

That's why the facts can't be broadcast.

People would be driven from their homes.

The place will become a hunting ground for bacteriologists.

But what about Miss Fitton and her family?

Her skin seems to be perfectly... Perfect.

My dear, young man, I am so sorry. I thought you understood.

No, no. The disease only attacks strangers to the area.

But natives are rarely affected.

I don't know about the rest of you,

but I'm prepared to take the risk.

Yes, I should be sorry not to complete my research.

Or I, my holiday.

If you saw some of my patients in the more westerly district, you'll soon change your minds.

Is there nothing we can do to protect ourselves?

Cold baths are very beneficial, I believe.

♪ Where the nightingales are singing... ♪

Quick, Scatty. There's some men in the mill.

Scatty, the oak!

Come on, Scatty. Show me the side around here.

Whoa!

If it isn't Peaky Doyle.

Come to beat up more old ladies, have you?

Want something, do you?

Thanks, miss.

And here it is. I always keep a supply handy.

Try it this evening.

Rub it in well.

I must warn you, it seldom works.

Yeah, you'll do far better, to go straight back to London.

Oh, and I beg you not to mention our conversation

to the good, young people of the mill.

Poor young creatures, I'm afraid the shoe pinches at times.

- You can rely on our discretion. - Good night.

Thank you, again.

Good night.

- Odd sense of humour, our doctor friend. - What is it?

Sea onion.

One of the most powerful irritants known to ancient herbal medicine.

Rub this in, we'd have a fine crop of blisters by the morning.

So, Dr Galley was lying?

But he was positively sweating with sincerity.

Not sincerity, Guffy. Fear.

♪ Jolly boating weather

♪ And a hay harvest breeze ♪

There you are. Honestly, I've been waiting for absolutely donkey's years.

You'll never guess, what happened whilst you were out.

Lugg and Scatty were absolutely marvellous. They fought like fiends.

One of them got away but they managed to knock the other one down.

I suppose, I'll have to hush it up a bit.

It could be rather awkward or would it count as self-defence.

- Though he's not quite dead. - Amanda, who are you talking about?

There.

Peaky Doyle.

He'll survive.

- The inscription. - So, he got it down then?

Got what down?

For goodness sake, Lugg, what were you thinking of?

You must be out of your mind.

What would have happened if the man had died?

There is gratitude for you.

Me and my pal here have a scrap with a party

discovered on the premises with...

- Felonious intentions. - Yeah.

We didn't do aught to get an earful. We ought to get the price of our time.

Magers is right.

But for us, Peaky would have got away.

It was Peaky, wasn't it?

Yes, as it happens.

But in your condition, it would have all been the same

had it been the local bobby.

All right. Me and Scatty got a bit lit.

And charge in like a couple of homicidal maniacs!

Didn't you realise, he had a gun?

You could have been killed!

So could Amanda.

Right, his chum should find him there.

Oh, and, Lugg, can you slip this back into his pocket, would you?

He is off his rocker.

This is the riddle on the oak, innit?

We want it to get back to his boss, don't we?

Brett Savanake?

Well, if we can't work it out, perhaps he can.

I always think, two brains are better than one.

Ow!

Damn tooth's on the go again.

I say, Campion, have you seen this?

Personal column, fourth paragraph down.

"If A.C., late of Bottle Street, Piccadilly

"will call at Xenophon House, W.C.2 on Wednesday at 4:30."

That's today.

"The documents we have prepared for him will be ready for signature.

"X.R. & Co."

Xenophon? That's the insurance people, isn't it?

Hmm.

Extraordinary way of doing business.

You'll put it off, of course?

Oh, no, I rather think I shall go.

Our friend Doyle has apparently delivered my message.

Good morning.

Hal, I hope you don't mind, I borrowed one of your marbles.

Lost some of his own, if you ask me. Here you go.

I'm off to London now.

Lugg and the others will keep an eye on the place.

I wish I could come to. I'd love a spin in that car.

Will you take me out in it one day?

Yes, I will.

When are you coming back?

I'm not sure.

I wonder, what it's all about.

What are these documents, do you suppose?

It'll just be a pretext.

I imagine once he gets into Xenophon House, he'll be in for a meeting with the boss.

Who is the boss of Xenophon?

I thought you knew.

Brett Savanake.

Well, we better see if we can make some progress in Campion's absence.

I vote we concentrate on the Malplaquet Drum.

We could try the local church. Miss Hunting forest said there was some old drums there.

He'll be just about to enter the lion's den.

- Mr Campion, about the papers. - Straight up the stairs, sir.

Mr Campion, about the papers.

Good afternoon, Mr Campion.

This way, sir.

Mr Campion, about the papers?

Nice to meet you.

Yes. I saw your advertisement in The Times.

I brought this along, in case you needed to see it.

Oh, that's what I call intelligent.

I can see you and me will get along.

My name is Parrott, by the way.

Parrott with two Ts.

Excellent likeness.

All seems in order.

You better come this way.

Going up.

Nothing's so nasty as a toothache.

Nothing.

Mr Campion, about the papers. - Certainly.

Mr Campion, about the papers.

You're two minutes early.

But never mind. Mr Savanake will see you...

...now.

And do try to keep that handkerchief down from your face.

- It'll disturb him. - Yes.

- Cigarette? - Oh, not with this tooth. Thank you, all the same.

Well, now, Campion.

I've heard a great deal about you.

One way and another.

I think, I may be able to put something away.

As long as it isn't a spoke in my wheel.

That facetiousness is very irritating.

Let's get down to business.

Do you speak Spanish?

Only with Spaniards.

The fact is, Campion, I have a job for you.

Ever been to South America?

- Twice. - Excellent.

You are the man I want.

May I ask the nature of the work?

We have certain interests in Peru.

The latest revolution has proved unconducive to them.

What we want is someone without ties.

Someone with brains and resource to engineer a counter-revolution.

Oh, is that all?

It's not as impossible as it sounds.

The machinery is all set up, it simply needs the right man to take it over.

Think of it, my boy.

You could make yourself president, if you wished.

We'll keep you there as long as you protect our interests.

This firm is a world power, you realise that?

I had an inkling.

I don't know if you're interested in the money,

but there might be as much as 25,000 if you succeed.

That's a very great deal, but...

But quite frankly, the money doesn't interest me.

As much as the job itself. It sounds challenging.

I enjoy a challenge.

That's why I chose you! A job for an adventurer.

If you could hold it open for a week or so, I might well be able to...

Impossible. The thing must be done at once.

There's been enough delay already.

Well, the trouble is, I'm engaged elsewhere at present.

This little government job? Oh, forget it, dear boy.

Government business is notoriously thankless.

If you take my advice, you'll just walk out and leave it.

With the bureaucracy of the type which governs this benighted country,

the chances are no one will even notice you've gone.

What about the arrangement? Surely that'll take time.

I have all the paraphernalia here.

Reservations on the boat.

The Marqisita. One of our own liners.

Letter to the Captain.

Your instructions upon arriving on South American soil.

And £500 in notes.

When you say immediate,

how immediate do you mean?

When you leave this office,

one of my secretaries will take you to the ground floor,

where a car will be waiting.

He will accompany you to Southampton in time to board the Marqisita.

That immediate?

You'll be conducted to the Captain's cabin

where you'll remain until the boat is underway.

I've prepared passport under the name of Christian Bennett.

I hope you remembered to pack my woollens.

Your usual tailor has supplied a complete tropical outfit.

So, all I need to get is a packet of seasick pills.

I do hate that manner of yours.

What if I decide not to play revolutions with you?

I don't think you'll be so stupid.

What about my friends? I'll have to tell them something.

All that has been arranged.

Must you hold that handkerchief to your face?

Yes.

I suppose you've written them a letter and all I have to do is copy it out?

Well, sign it. It's typewritten on a machine borrowed from your flat.

Shall I read it to you?

Please.

"Dear old things,

"I'm afraid, this is going to come as a bit of a shock,

"but don't think too hardly of me.

"The fact is, something has come along,

"which has a spice of real danger in it."

I say, I hate to hurt your feelings, but you can't possibly send that.

They'd smell a rat immediately.

Would you like me to brush it up for you?

Oh, you needn't worry about codes or what not.

Don't post until after I have sailed.

Yes. It's much better.

Your own peculiar style.

It will not, as you suggest, be posted until you've sailed.

And you'll not, of course, be allowed to send wireless messages from the ship.

- Of course. - Well, that completes your interview.

Uh, you will find Mr Parrott waiting for you in the outer office.

He will escort you to Southampton.

One moment. I have a request.

This firm has a sideline in insurance, I believe?

Yes.

I should like my life insured for £50,000 for a limited period.

You may find it difficult to get yourself covered for an errand like this.

From the moment you arrive in Peru,

there will be a certain amount of danger involved.

It isn't Peru I'm worried about.

The period I want my life insured for is from the moment I leave this office

until the Marqisita sails.

I believe you have a sense of humour, after all.

It was no joke.

Very well, I will fix it up.

Through my own brokers, if you don't mind.

If I might use your telephone?

Uh. Crude stuff, my boy.

Look up the firm's number yourself.

Which firm is it?

Polter, Braid and Simpson of Pall Mall.

A chap called McAfee handles my affairs.

Very well, but we have no time to waste. McAfee, you said?

Guffy, these don't tell us much.

Except that no one thinks a lot of them.

And they certainly date from a period well after 1709.

Perhaps, we should try if it is strickening.

It ought to stir something up.

We should be in Southampton by 10:00.

You'll have a nice cabin aboard the Marqisita.

No need to worry about that.

That's the least of my worries, Mr Parrott.

As soon as Mr Parrott and the other gentleman have left the suite,

you can send in the next appointment.

Tooth's still troubling you?

I suppose I couldn't stop at the dentist's?

Sorry, old son.

No stops. The boss said.

I only hope I don't catch a cold with it.

That would soon put pay to the counter revolution.

Punish the thought.

Oh, do please hurry.

You can go straight in.

Mr Savanake will see you now.

I can't, Mr Parrott.

Orders is orders where Mr Savanake is concerned.

What though I suffer toothache's ills?

What though I yearn for countless pills?

Never you mind.

Roll on.

You're a Gilbert & Sullivan man too, are you?

- There's one over there. - What?

A chemist.

Oh, please, Mr Parrott. I really don't think I'll make Southampton,

let alone Peru, unless I find something to ease this pain.

All right, then.

But it is a risk I'm taking, I tell you.

Woe betide anyone who goes against Mr Savanke.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Can I be of assistance?

My colleague here has toothache.

A severe toothache.

If you could kindly give him something for it.

- And quick. - Yes, we got a boat to catch.

What would be best, um...

Let me see, um...

Uh, yes. Uh...

Try this, sir...

Two drops to be taken

every three hours, until the pain desists. I, um...

Trust he'll be seeing a dentist as soon as he reaches his destination.

Yes, first port of call. Thank you very much.

Hurry now. Settle with him quickly.

Don't want to keep the Marqisita waiting.

- Southampton, then, and sharpish. - Yes, sir.

In the meantime, you'll proceed with the operation as planned.

Start closing on Pontisbright now.

Oh, morning, Steve. Anything for me?

- Nothing, miss. - Right.

Steve, are you...

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