All language subtitles for Towards Zero

-==http://www.ragbear.com==-
Proudly Presents
Agatha Christie's "Miss Marple"

Corrections: lfellix[freelancer]
<-credit goes to the original subber->

♪ Such captivating green eyes ♪

♪ Those tender and serene eyes ♪

♪ Those never ever mean eyes ♪

♪ They're so loving and true ♪

♪ The sea beneath the blue skies ♪

♪ Is reflecting your green eyes ♪

♪ And the trees... ♪

♪ in the woodland♪
Do you know something, Miss Marple?

I rather suspect that you and I both
share a secret passion.

Do we, Mr Treves?

Murder, Miss Marple.

Well, I'm not quite sure
that I would describe it as such.

Detective stories get it all wrong.

They begin with the murder
when it should come at the end.

- Don't you think?
- In certain cases, perhaps.

Then again...

Miss Marple,
I think it would be safe to say

I am pretty expert in these matters.

Oh, without a doubt, Mr Treves.

You've devoted a whole lifetime
to the law.

And 99 times out of 100,
a murder evolves over years,

with all the causes and events
bringing certain people

to a certain place at a certain time. All...

What's the word?

Converging, Mr Treves?

That's it. Converging.

Converging towards a given spot
and then it comes, wallop!

The zero hour.
All converging. Converging.

- Towards zero?
- Yes, bull's-eye!

Towards zero.

Towards zero.

MAYFAIR, THREE MONTHS EARLIER

I bumped into Bunty yesterday.

Did you?

She's asked us to join them in Monte in July.

Wouldn't that be simply divine?

It's too sickening we can't.

We can't, can we?

No, we can't.

I don't want to go to dreary old Devon.

We have to. I owe it to Camilla.

I know we've got to suck up to her a bit...

It's not a question of sucking up.

It's a question of affection.

And piles of dosh.

- You know she hates me.
- Of course she doesn't.

It's all about Audery. I know it is.

One's never forgiving me.

She's old.

Her generation finds divorce hard to take.

She even thinks you behaved badly.

I did.

Just because Audrey chose to make
such a frightful fuss.

She had a nervous breakdown.

She was playing up.

You have to learn to lose gracefully.

You have to accept these things.

She did. She divorced me
so we could marry.

Anyway, you two had nothing in common.

She's just like a mangled old dishcloth.

She gives me the creeps.

Perhaps we should join Bunty
down in Monte Carlo.

What about Devon? Camilla?

We can always pop down in September.

But I thought she's always there
in September.

- Audrey, you mean.
- Yes, of course, Audrey.

We can't be there at the same time.

Gull's Point, Devon

Preposterous! The boy must be barking!

- It does seem rather odd.
- Wives making friends?

Oh, it's too revolting.

No, no, no, it can't be Nevile's idea.

Must have come from that ghastly
trollop he married.

Well, people tend to be
a little more relaxed nowadays

about this sort of thing.

Not under my roof!

It's only because Matthew,
God rest his soul,

was so devoted to the boy

that I allow that scarlet-toed creature
here at all.

I do not like her.
The way she pursued Nevile

until his marriage was in tatters.

No, I blame her entirely
for the whole thing.

Well, Nevile had a little to do with it.

But of course he did, stupid boy!

But if it hadn't been
for that harlot's persistence...

Poor Audrey.
What that woman's been through.

And she was so nearly such a good wife.

If only she'd been a little more athletic.

Good morning.

- Nowadays, there's simply no...
- Discretion?

Exactly.
So girls like Kay Mortimer go around

stealing other people's husbands

and gad about
with entirely unsuitable types

like that young man who's always
hanging around her.

-Ted Latimer.
- Yes.

Touch of the Dago, I suspect.

Unless he wears make-up,
which wouldn't at all surprise me.

He's a friend from her Riviera days.

I'd very much like to know

how he manages to live
the way that he does.

By his wits, I would imagine.

I expect he'll be loafing about

at Easterhead while they're here.

Oh, why can't everyone leave me
in peace?

Old Freddie Treves practically
next door at Balmoral Court.

Thomas Royde boring us all
senseless with tales from Malaya.

And Miss Marple, of course.

Oh, and of course, Marple.

A sketching holiday, I ask you!

She'll be over at Easterhead too.

Mm, Marple and the gigolo.

Now, there's a thought.

No doubt she'll be poking her nose
in everywhere.

She was just the same at school
and such a ghastly swot!

Perhaps you'd prefer
that I put Nevile off.

Oh, no, let them all do what they want.

With any luck I'll be dead by September.

Deuce.

CENTRE COURT,WIMBLEDON

Advantage Strange.

His backhand's good, I'll give him that.

I wasn't expecting to see you here.

Oh, you know me.

Never miss an opportunity.

And how's the devoted wife today?

Absolutely furious.

Deuce.

Nevile's got it into his head that
Audrey and I...

Audrey, mind... that we should
become bosom buddies.

- What on earth for?
- I haven't the faintest idea.

Have you heard of anything so stupid?

And he wants us all to go
on holiday together

down to Camilla's in Devon.

I don't know what's got into him.

- When are you going?
- September, apparently.

It's bound to be her doing.

Sneaky little cat.

Don't worry, sugar.
I'll be there to hold your hand.

I'll book a room
at the hotel across the bay.

Advantage Merrick.

Out!

- The ball was out.
- It was in.

- Of course it was.
- Game set and championship, Merrick.

6-3, 2-6, 6-4, 7-5.

That's Nevile's trouble.
He's too bloody sporting.

Gull's Point, September

I must say, I found
Nevlle's suggestion quite disgusting.

It might, you know, be rather a good thing.

You can't want to be here
with that dreadful woman.

It's not that bad. And if Nevile wants it....

But do you want it? That's the question.

Yes?

- My God!
- What is it?

For a second I thought it was
Rita Hayworth.

You stupid child!

Hello, you gorgeous old thing.

Rude, horrible creature.

- How are you?
- Irresistible.

We've been so looking forward to this,
darling, haven't we?

We couldn't wait. Hello, Camilla.

Kay. Yes.

- Settled in?
- Yes, thank you.

Naughty boy.

This is all perfectly ghastly.

- Thomas...
- Hello, Mary.

How lovely.

- Seven years.
- Nearly eight.

Is it really? That's too long.

How's the plantation?

Damned hard work.

- Rubber, isn't it?
- Yes.

But I'm thinking of branching out
into sago.

Sago?

Well...

Nothing's changed much around here.

Oh, except for that vile new hotel.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Nice of the old girl to put me up.

I hope it hasn't been a bother.

It's a Godsend, believe me.

Audrey's particularly looking forward
to seeing you.

Is she?

Things have been difficult with Nevile

and his wife there as well

His idea, apparently.

Not a very good one, as it turns out.

Mr Treves, sir.
Welcome back to the Balmoral Court.

Oh, Mrs Rogers!
The old gaff all spick and span?

There's been a slight change of plan, sir.

But I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

There she is, stately as a galleon.

Yes, dear old Gull's Point.

No, stop!

What the devil...?

Oh, I'm so sorry.
I didn't mean to startle you,

but I-I thought...

Oh,Yes,I'm afraid I've always tended
to stand too near edge.

Yes, it...is rather tempting, isn't it?

I had to fetch this,
thought I'd get some air.

Nevile Strange.

I know. Jane Marple.

I've just popped in to see Camilla

and came up here to try a little sketch.

Friend of hers, are you?

Oh, yes, we go back a long way.

On and off.

Such a pity about Wimbledon, Mr Strange.

- That boy who beat you... Berwick?
- Merrick.

Flash in the pan, I'm sure.

The best man on the day.

Sporting life. Oh, how fascinating!

You must tell me all about it this evening.

This evening?

Mm, that will be nice.

Goodbye, then, Mr Strange.

This is all I could find.
The illustrated Post.

That'll do, I suppose.

Nevile.

I'm so sorry, Nevile.
I thought you were speaking to me.

- Oh, but...
- No.

- I'm so sorry.
- Who the hell are you?

- Royde. Thomas Royde.
- Oh, yes, the man from Malaya.

- That's right.
- Well,if I were you,l'd go back, pronto.

- Ah, Royde. Hello, there.
- Strange.

Didn't know you'd arrived.

- Met the wife, I suppose.
- In a manner of speaking.

Yes. I'd better go and...

So...here we all are.

Is Camilla not joining us?

I'm afraid not, Miss Marple.

Nowadays she prefers her own room.

Is your hotel comfortable?

Oh, yes. Most comfortable, thank you.

Yes, it's not a bad old dive.

And top-notch billiards.

We should all come over one day.

It's got a lovely sandy beach.

I was thinking of going sailing tomorrow.

I'd like that.

We can all go sailing.

I thought you were playing golf.

I can play another day.

- Do you play golf, Kay?
- Hardly.

She'd be good if she took the trouble.

She's got a natural swing.

- Do you play games, Audrey?
- No, I don't.

So you and Camilla were at school
together, Miss Marple?

- Yes, indeed.
- There's a thought.

The two of you in boaters and gymslips.

And how long have
you known Camilla, Mr Treves?

Oh, we go back years.
Through Matthew,that's how I know her.

Matt and I took silk together, yes.

Whenever I'm
down in this part of the world,

I always make sure I see the old girl.

Mr Treves is staying close by
at the Balmoral Court.

You always have the same suite,
don't you?

Not this year, unfortunately.

Some cock-up with the booking
so they've put me up top.

Good job they've got a lift.

Dicky ticker, you see.

Still...sharp as a knife, eh, Mr Treves?

Oh, yes.
I haven't forgotten who I am yet.

I say,
that Merrick's doing rather well, isn't he?

Gave you a damn good thrashing
at any rate, eh?

Move the table, Nevile.

Teddy...dance with me.

That hair, flame-red. Unforgettable.

Would you care to dance?

Her ladyship's compliments, Miss Marple,

and she would be glad to see you
in her room.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Everyone behaving themselves?

Yes. It was the most delicious dinner.

I expect the gigolo put that racket on.

Or was it the frightful Kay?

They seem to be having a good time.

It's not a bloody dance hall!

- Sketching, eh?
- Yes.

- Been at it long?
- No.

But I must...

Always good with your hands, weren't you?

Needlework,
pottery, all that sort of nonsense.

Too fiddly for me.

Much prefer to be on a pitch
with a stick in my hand.

- I remember...
- Only exercise I get now

is lifting these damn things to my lips.

- We weren't that bad-looking, were we, Jane?
- No.

- I think we were...
- Look at us now.

Two old crocks waiting to drop off the twig.

So...what do you think to the harem?

I'm not sure I...

I just can't fathom
how a chap could leave Audrey for Kay.

- It does happen.
- Of course it happens.

But if you were a man,
wouldn't she drive you off your nut?

Perhaps it won't last.

He may marry again.
Maybe even return to his first wife.

To Audrey?
Oh, no, never. No, she's too proud.

Oh, where love is concerned,

pride is a quality
more often spoken of than acted on.

You don't mean she might still
hold a candle for him?

Oh, no, no! No, she's behaving perfectly,

In an impossible situation.

Whereas Nevile is behaving
very badly indeed.

So, tell me about Malaya.

Ah Miss Marple
dismissed from the Royal presence!

Care for a dance?

Oh, that's most kind of you, Mr Treves.

But I think perhaps not.

Just as well. Probably kill me.

Oh, that young fellow knows his onions.

- Yes.
- Quite the professlonal.

Rather decorative, too.
I wonder what he does for a living.

One can only imagine, eh?

I sense you're quite
a shrewd observer, Mr Treves.

You're a shrewd observer yourself.

You know something, Miss Marple?

I rather suspect that you and I both share
a secret passion.

Do we, Mr Treves?

And what would that be, I wonder?

Murder, Miss Marple.

Time for your tonic, m'lady.

- Waste disposal on the mend, Barrett?
- Oh, no, m'lady.

I'll be forever a slave to my bowels.

I see they've acquitted
the Morphine Murderer.

It was in The Times this morning.

Morphine Murderer?

Jumped the gun
calling him that in the first place.

Accidental overdose, they decided.

You sound sceptical, Mr Royde.

Well, it sounds pretty dodgy to me.

Where there's smoke and all that.

I knew a case once...

Oh, perhaps not.

- Oh, do go on, Mr Treves.
It concerned two children.

They were playing with bows and arrows

and one shot the other in the eye
and the poor child died.

''A regrettable accident,''
the inquest concluded.

Was that it?

Yes.
Well, there was another side to the story.

A farmer, some time previously,
happened to have noticed

the child who fired the fatal shot practising.

You mean it might not have been
an accident at all?

I don't know,

but it was stated at the inquest that
neither child

had ever used a bow and arrow before.

- What did the farmer do?
- He did nothing.

Perhaps he felt the child

should be given the benefit of the doubt.

But you're in no doubt, are you, Mr Treves?

It was murder, Mrs Strange.

Particularly ingenious and planned down
to the last detail.

What was the reason?

Childish revenge for a perceived injustice.

But to keep hold of that intent,

quietly practising, day after day,

and then the final piece of acting,

with the accident and a pretence of grief.

That could only stem from
the wickedest mind.

Well, now, there's food for thought.

- What happened?
- A change of name.

The child is now an adult
somewhere in the world.

The question is,

does that person still have
a murderer's heart?

It was a long time ago...

but I would
recognise my little killer anywhere.

Surely not.

Oh, yes.

Because of a certain physical peculiarity.

But I'd best not dwell on the subject.

I shall be on my way.

No, have another drink, Mr Treves.

Why not come out for a little?

I think I shall go to bed.

Thank you.

Do excuse me.
I must see that Lady Tressilian is settled.

You've danced me off my feet, Teddy.

Simply must go to bed.

Good night, everyone.

Good night, Teddy.

Oh, there's a plan afoot to come
to Easterhead tomorrow.

Whenever you're ready, Miss Marple.

That's very kind of you, Mr Latimer.

I nearly forgot.
There's something I have to get from car.

What a restless young man!

A friend of Mrs Strange, I understand.

Of Kay Strange, yes.

Confusing, isn't it?
Having two of them in the house.

More uncomfortable,
I would imagine,for original Mrs Strange.

I expect so.

You were brought up together,
weren't you?

You and Audrey Strange.

- Yes.
- You must know her well.

Why did she come, Mr Royde?

I suppose she didn't like to refuse.

I wonder why he would be anxious
for such a reunion.

I really don't know.
Bit stupid of him, if you ask me.

- Good night.
- Good night.

I'm so sorry about that.

Your coat, Miss Marple.

Thank you.

You must come again.

You seem to have cheered her up
enormously.

- What have you got there?
- Dance records.

Kay asked me to bring them over.

She didn't say.

Ted...

We'll make a move. Motor's out front.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Mr Treves...

Mr Treves...

- I'll walk you back, shall I?
- Yes, yes.

- It's a beautiful night.
- Yes.

Do you know, I think I might join you.

A little air would be lovely.

Thank you.

Delightful evening...

..Miss Aldin.

Most instructive.

Oh, Thomas, you gave me a shock.

Been down to the ferry for a bit of a walk.

Oh, nightmare, ssh...

quiet as the grave,

which is perhaps why I feel
so much more at home.

- Damnation.
- What's wrong?

Lift's out of order.
I'm going to have to walk up.

You could always come back and
stay the night.

Nonsense! Fit as a fid...as a fiddle.

- Let me come up with you.
- I wouldn't hear of it.

If I go slowly...slowly...

One step, two step...

up the wooden hill.

Good night, ladies.

- Good night, Mr Treves.
- Good night.

Good night.

out of order.

Donald!

Donald! Don't run off,
Donald, there's a good boy.

Donald!

Such an odd story
Mr Treves told last night, wasn't it?

- The child and the bow and arrow.
- Yes.

It sent a shiver up my spine.

He's such a funny old stick.

- Oh, Teddy!
- Kay and Ted go well together, don't they?

I suppose they do.

They like the same things,
have the same opinions.

They lead such different lives from me.

I quite envy them.

And even you
with all your...unhappiness.

You've had experiences
that I shall probably never have.

I envy you too. I really do.

It can't be much fun for you...
living with Camilla.

Well, I'm well fed, comfortably housed...

Thousands of women don't even have that.

Poor old Thomas.

I'll go and have a word.

Please don't get up.
Do you mind if I join you?

Please, be my guest.

Mr Latimer.

May I?

Of course.

You've been deserted, I see.

Yes...she's been claimed
by her legal owner.

Are you enjoying yourself down here,
Mr Latimer?

As much as I'd enjoy myself anywhere.

They don't like me, Miss Marple.

The Gull's Point mob.

I'm an outsider
and they don't take to outsiders.

You don't take much to them, I suspect.

What's it particularly
you don't like about them,Mr Latimer?

They're smug. That's what I don't like.

Really pleased with themselves.

Shut off from the common herd.

- I'm sorry you feel like that.
- It's true, though.

Perhaps they may, from time to time,

appear as you say, somewhat smug.

But really inside
I'm sure they're quite human.

Whatever their faults,

I don't believe malice to be one of them.

You're not very happy, are you?

Have you always been in love with her?

And she?

I thought so.

Till Strange came along.

Are you still in love with her?

Shouldn't you
go away from here, Mr Latimer?

You're only letting yourself in
for more unhappiness.

Sweet old thing, aren't you?

- By the way, I've got your earring.
- Oh, good.

I hate being without earrings.

- Why is that?
- Because of this.

Oh, yes, old Bouncer bit you.

He had a sore paw or something.

Yes, and I stupidly bent down
to stroke him.

I was very young.

It was just after your family took me in.

It was quite nasty
but you can hardly see a thing now.

Still, I know it's there.

Why did you marry him?

- I fell in love.
- Why?

What attracted you?

- You hate him, don't you?
- Hardly surprising, is it?

He's got everything I haven't.

I'm just dull old Thomas with a gammy arm.

He married the only girl I've ever cared for.

And you've always known that,
haven't you?

I know you don't care for me.

Even as children, you preferred Adrian.

He had a schoolboy crush.

I wish it had been me in that car
and not him.

Don't, Thomas, please.

There's something
I don't understand about that.

- About what?
- Adrian's death.

Well, it's really very simple.

He died...in a car accident.

What was he doing down here?

- Why didn't he visit Camilla?
- How should I know?

I'm beginning to think it isn't

so simple as just another accident
on a country road.

Hello, Audrey. Royde.

I'll stretch my legs.

- It is all right between us, isn't it?
- Yes, of course.

I mean, we're good friends and all that.

Yes. Why wouldn't we be?

Nevile!

Audrey...

- Nevile!
- Your wife wants you.

- Kay, you mean.
- That's what I said.

You're my wife, Audrey.

Miss Aldin...

her ladyship wants to see you at once.

Oh, Mary, I'm so glad you're back.

- Camilla, what is it?
- It's Freddie Treves. He's dead.

- Dead?
- Yes, Isn't it terrible?

Would you go to the Balmoral Court

and ask if there's anything we can do?

Yes, yes, of course.

I gather Mr Treves was

dining with you at Gull's Point last night.

- Yes, Doctor.
- How did he seem?

Very well.

This heart business...

You just never know
when it's going to hit you.

I had a look at his medication

and it was clear he was in
a pretty bad way.

He was always so careful.

I'm sure he was, Mrs Rogers.

But any extra strain, however slight,
and bingo.

- Such as walking up stairs.
- Absolutely.

Although I'm sure
he would have avoided that.

Oh, yes.
He always used the lift. Always.

- Except last night.
- What do you mean, Miss Aldin?

Well, the lift was out of order, wasn't it?

No, it hasn't been out of order for weeks.

What a terrible thing!

Yes.

Perhaps it was sort of
misunderstanding or a practical joke.

It's not very funny.

You bastard!

Oh, dear!

This is not what you think.

It's exactly what I think.

You just can't keep away from her,
can you?

Oh, for God's sake, Kay!

- I'll leave you alone.
- Yes, I wish you would!

Yes, that's right, run away!
You've got what you wanted!

It's nothing to do with her.
Blame me if you like.

Oh, I do like.

Making me look like an idiot.

What sort of man are you?

A pretty poor one.

You come after me, you divorce your wife.

It's no good, Kay. We don't belong.

I won't let you go back to her.

I'll kill you first. And her too.

I expect you'll be glad
when things get back to normal.

Do you still play the piano?

I'm afraid I've let it slip.

You used to play rather well.

I thought you didn't like music.

I wondered
how you managed an octave.

Your hands are so small.

I've got a long little finger.

Mm, that means you're selfish.

Is that true?

Yes, it is.

If you're unselfish,
you have a short one.

Your left hand's what you're born with

and your right hand's what you make
of your life.

Now, Nevile here
is a very interesting case,

aren't you, darling?

Look how small
his left hand little finger is.

Whereas his right one's...
really quite long.

Which shows just
how selfish he's become.

An old wives' tale.

And you know all about them,
don't you?

How long is it now you've been with
Lady Tressilian?

Oh, well, erm...

I came when my father died, so...
going on 15 years now.

Tell us about your arm, Mr Royde.

It happened when I was a child.

I was jammed in a door
during an earthquake.

It left me rather lop-sided.

Stop it, Mr Royde, please!

Think I might pop over to Easterhead,

catch Latimer for a game of billiards.

- Will you take the car?
- No, ferry.

It's pouring.

I know.

I'm going to bed.

I've got a killing head. Good night.

Good night.

Night.

Well, I'd better be off.

If you please, sir,
Lady Tressilian would like a word.

There are certain things
that I will not permit in my house.

I have no wish to listen to
anybody's private conversations,

but if you and your wife insist on
brawling in full view...

Sorry about that.

You wish Kay to divorce you so that

you and Audrey can remarry,
is that right?

If that's the gist of what you've heard...

I will not allow it.

I would have thought that's my business.

You've used my house
to contact Audrey.

Or else she's used it.

She's done nothing of the sort.

Kay is your wife.

She has rights
of which you cannot deprive her.

You've made your bed, now lie on it.

It's got nothing to do with you.

It has everything to do with me!

And Audrey
leaves this house tomorrow!

You can't do that!

- Don't you raise your voice to me!
- I will not have it!

First blow
smashed the bone and killed her.

The second one was just to make sure.

How long has she been dead?

I'd put it between ten and midnight.

And this is what hit her, is it?

Presumably. She must have been hit
with the back of it.

Well, that's...that's a bit awkward.

Damned awkward.
The whole thing is awkward.

She was struck, you see,
on the right temple. Whoever did it

must have stood
here on the right-hand side,

looking towards the head of the bed.

- There's no room on the left.
- Left-handed.

That's the easiest explanation.

Niblick's right-handed.

Perhaps it didn't belong
to the man who used it, sir.

- Supposing it was a man.
- It's heavy enough

for anyone
to have landed a terrible swipe.

But you couldn't swear

this was the weapon, could you, Doctor?

I'd need to analyse the blood
and the head.

Do you think she was awake
when she was hit?

She looks fairly astonished.

Unless she slept like that.

A lovely set of prints, sir.

Very obliging chap.

He leaves you the murder weapon,
good set of prints.

It's a wonder he didn't leave you his card.

- I'd better see to Barrett.
- Who?

Lady Tressilian's maid.

She was found in a coma
earlier this morning,

by the young housemaid, Alice.
She's the one who found body.

- She'd been doped with barbiturates.
- Had she, now?

She could have rung for help
till she was blue in the face.

Her maid was out cold.
Someone spiked her senna pods.

Well, I've not heard that one before.

Someone who knew the household routines.

That's where you come in, old chap.

This is Thomas Royde,
an old friend of the family.

Audrey Strange, and this is, er...
Nevile Strange

and Kay Strange, Nevile's wife.
- Good morning.

- And this lady?
- Oh, I'm sorry. This is Miss Marple.

- Jane Marple?
- Yes.

Good morning, Superintendent.
I don't believe we've met.

No, madam.
But a colleague of mine, Colonel Melchett...

has spoken of you
on more than one occasion.

- Well, I hope.
- Well, he's certainly spoken of you.

Dear Colonel Melchett.

Does anybody recognise this?

Is that what... ?

How horrible!

Looks like one of mine.

Can I see?

Go on.

- Yes, it is.
- Golf as well as tennis, sir.

Yes.

I saw you at Wimbledon.

- My daughter's a great fan of tennis.
- Good.

Particularly keen on that Merrick chap.

He certainly knows
how to hit a ball, doesn't he?

So, ladies and gentlemen,
if you have no objection,

we'd like to take your fingerprints.

It's purely routine.
If you'd care to make way into study

you'll find Detective Sergeant Jones
waiting with his kit.

Er, sir.

I wonder if you've got any idea, sir,

who Lady Tressilian's solicitors are.

Yes, Asquith And Trelawney
of Saltington.

Thank you, sir.
I need to look into the estate.

You mean who inherits the money.

That's right, sir. The will and all that.

Well, I don't know about her will.

I don't think she had much of her own,

but as to the bulk of her property...

Yes, Mr Strange?

..it comes to me and my wife

under the will of
her late husband, Sir Matthew.

He was my official guardian, you see.

He and Lady Tressilian
looked after me when my parents died.

He left the estate in trust for his wife
during her lifetime

- Any idea of the amount?
- Not off-hand, no.

Somewhere in the region of...100,000.

- Each?
- Between us.

- A tidy sum, nonetheless.
- It is, yes.

Although, erm...I've plenty of my own.

At what hour
did Mr Strange leave the house?

Twenty-past ten, sir.

Or thereabouts.

I left the front door on the latch, sir,

for when he came back
from Easterhead Bay.

Do you remember what time that was?

About half-past two, sir.

I heard voices...

then a car drive away...

..and then I heard
Mr Nevile come upstairs.

- You heard something?
- I couldn't help it, sir.

See, I was going up to bed
and I had to pass ladyship's door.

I heard her and Mr Nevile
going at it hammer and tongs.

Do you remember what was said?

Well, I wasn't listening, like...

Where did you find this?

In one drawer of the bottom of
Mr Strange's wardrobe.

And look at this.

Looks like blood to me.

And it's spattered
all the way up the sleeve.

- Well done, Williams.
- And there's something else, sir.

Red hair, see? Here on the cuff.

And there's brown hairs
on the collar and right shoulder.

Well, well.
A regular Bluebeard, our Mr Strange.

His arm around one
and the other wife's head on shoulder

And look at this, sir.

Could mean
he was trying to wash the blood off.

- Where does that lead to?
- Mrs Strange's room.

It's locked.

- On this side?
- The other.

On her side, eh?

This is where Barrett
always kept the senna pods, sir.

Nasty little things.

She put them in to soak at midday

and they stood there till she went to bed.

So anybody could get at them.

No prints on the packet, I suppose,
or the glass.

Only Barrett's, apparently.

Easy enough
just to drop the stuff in, anyway.

An inside job, don't you think, sir?

Excuse me, sir,
but I've done all the prints

and only one set matches those
on the niblick.

Nevile Strange's, I presume.

Planning your escape, Miss Marple?

Oh, Superintendent!

You shouldn't be up here, you know.

That's why I'm on my way down.

There was something I was going
to tell you.

Miss Marple...

About the night before last.
Poor Mr Treves.

We were dining at Gull's Point...

Is this something that could wait?

Do you think Miss Marple?

No, I'm quite sure it couldn't.

And after dinner, Mr Treves told us

the most tragic story that occurred
some years ago.

Two children playing with
bows and arrows and one dead.

- Shot through the eye.
- Dear, dear.

- Accidents will happen.
- That's just it, Superintendent.

He was convinced that it was not
an accident

even though the child was acquitted.

But quite intentional,
planned to the last detail.

Miss Marple, we really must...

And because
of a certain physical peculiarity,

he'd recognise the murderer anywhere.

- Did he specify what?
- No, I'm afraid he didn't.

- This'll have to wait.
- There's more.

When Mr Treves returned to the hotel,

he found the lift out of order.

- I don't really see...
- But apparently it wasn't.

It seems someone
put the placard there by accident.

Accidents will happen.

Mr Treves, who had a very weak heart,

had to climb the stairs and died.
I can't help feeling that

the placard was put there
not by accident but by design.

Murder on the off-chance, you could say.

Because he'd recognised at dinner...

..the person who'd shot the arrow.

But please don't let me keep you.

Good morning.

Bit late, wasn't it, sir,
to be going off to Easterhead?

It's quite lively over there,
Superintendent,

as I'm sure you know.

And this is something of an
early-to-bed household, isn't it?

- I took a key.
- But not your wife?

She had a headache.

Please go on.

I was about to go up to change.

- Into what?
- I'd been wearing a blue suit.

My best, as it happens.
As I proposed taking the ferry,

I thought I'd change into an older one.

Dove grey...

anthracite lining, double-breasted.

We just like to get everything clear, sir.

- Do continue.
- I was about to go up and change

when Hurstall told me that
Lady Tressilian wanted to see me,

so, naturally, I obeyed the summons.

You were the last person
to see her alive, I think.

Yes.

- I suppose I was.
- How long were you with her?

20 minutes or so.

Then I changed, hurried off,
just about caught the ferry.

Then at the hotel,
eventually tracked down Latimer.

We had a game of billiards

and before we knew it,
it was two o'clock.

The last ferry had gone by then, of course.

So Latimer very decently gave me
a lift back.

It's quite a way, all round the estuary.

He dropped me off about half-past.

That chat with Lady Tressilian.
All right, was it?

Why shouldn't it be?

Well, the thing is, sir,
some of conversation was overheard.

We had a slight disagreement.
It was nothing.

What about, sir?

Well, as a matter of fact,
she ticked me off.

Nothing unusual there. The old bird
was an expert.

Divorce and all that. She wouldn't have it,

so we both got a bit heated.

But we parted on perfectly friendly terms.

That niblick, Mr Strange...

Any reason
why it would have your prints on it?

It's my club. Of course they'd be on it.

I certainly didn't bash her
over the head with it.

I mean is there any reason why
the prints would show

that you were the last person to
have handled it.

That can't be true.

Somebody else must have handled it
afterwards.

Someone wearing gloves.

Not without smudging your prints, sir.

It isn't true. It simply isn't true.

Why are the sleeves of your blue suit
stained with blood?

That's ridiculous.

I wasn't even wearing that suit.

- Did you cut yourself, Mr Strange?
- No, I did not.

Surely you can't think I did such a thing.

You must realise, Mr Strange,
that we already have

sufficient evidence
to request a warrant for your arrest.

What?

But we've decided
to give you the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

I had a headache.

So I went to bed early.

The next thing I knew,
that wretched girl

Alice was screaming the house down.

Your husband, did he happen to
pop in to see how you were

before he went off for the evening?
- No.

So you didn't see
him from the time you went to bed

until you got up this morning. Is that right?
- Yes.

I noticed the door
between your rooms was locked.

Who locked it?

- Mrs Strange?
- What?

The bedroom door - who locked it?

l did.

We'd had a row earlier on,
if you must know.

I was furious with him.

Absolutely furious.

Oh, dear. What was all that about, then?

That bloody woman.

It's all her fault.

She's making him behave like
a perfect idiot.

Which woman would that be?

His first wife,
for goodness' sake - Audrey.

She got him down here in the first place.

Nevile says it was his idea, but it wasn't.

It was she who put the idea into his head

and made him believe
he'd thought of it himself.

Why would she do a thing like that?

Because she wants to get her hands
on him again.

She's never forgiven him for
running off with me.

And this is her revenge.

She's got him wrapped round
her little finger.

Why didn't you object to coming here,
Mrs Strange?

Because it would have looked as though
I were jealous.

- Aren't you?
- Well, of course I am!

I've been jealous of Audrey from the start.

And Nevile's always felt guilty.

He could never quite forget her.

Anything you'd care to add, Inspector?

No, sir.

Well, thank you, Mrs Strange.

We have to ask a good many questions,

especially with your husband inheriting

so much from Lady Tressilian. 50,000.

As much as that?

Oh, how very generous.

We get it from old Sir Matthew's will,
don't we?

You knew all about it, then?

Oh, yes.
He left it to be divided between Nevile

and Nevile's wife
after Lady Tressilian's death.

I must say, I didn't like her.

Probably because she didn't like me.

But it's too horrible
to think of someone coming along

and cracking her over the head.

Do you know that Lady Tressilian

has left her maid, Barrett, a legacy?

- Yes, l did.
- And that she left you one too?

- Yes.
- Do you know how much?

Enough to live on.

Lady Tressilian was aware of
how very little I have of my own.

I always come here in September.

And my husband - my ex-husband -

wanted to come too and asked if I'd mind.

- It was his suggestion?
- Yes.

- Not yours.
- It was his suggestion.

- And you agreed?
- One doesn't like to be disobliging.

But you were the injured party.

- Yes.
- And you don't feel any rancour against him?

Not at all.

You have
a very forgiving nature, Mrs Strange.

Are you friendly
with the present Mrs Strange?

l don't think she likes me very much.

- Do you like her?
- I think she's very beautiful.

Well...

thank you, Mrs Strange.
It's...most helpful.

You're wrong about Nevile, you know.

We were married for eight years.

He would never kill anyone for money.

I do wish you'd believe it.

Have you seen any peculiarities yet, sir?

They're all bloody peculiar if you ask me.

Audrey is a distant cousin.

She lost her parents when she was nine

and my family took her in.

She and the second Mrs Strange

haven't been getting on too well,
have they, sir?

Can't say that I've noticed.

We found Mr Strange's fingerprints
on the weapon.

Yes, he told us.

And some blood on the sleeves of his jacket.

The same group as Lady Tressilian,
it transpires.

Do you think he did it, Mr Royde?

I think it's most unlikely.

Can you think of anyone more likely?

- No, I can't.
- Don't loiter.

Ma'am.

We now think
the murderer was left-handed.

Well, then,
that narrows down your options, doesn't it,

Superintendent?

I'd taken my senna
and was getting into bed...

when m'lady's bell rang.

Did you notice what time it was?

Twenty-five past ten.

Then, as I went down,
I spotted Mr Neville on the stairs.

He was just going out.

Did you see what he was wearing?

His grey double-breasted.

Oh, he did look worried!

Then I went in to her ladyship and...

..she was so drowsy, poor dear,

she couldn't remember why she'd rung.

And that was the last I saw of her.

Is there anyone who
doesn't like you very much, Mr Strange?

I don't think so.

Someone you might have injured in any way?

Well, there is, er...one person.
My first wife, Audrey.

But I can assure you she doesn't hate me.

- She's behaved like an angel.
- You're a very lucky man.

I can't say I liked the case against you,

but it would have stood up in court.
Probably hanged you.

Sorry, I don't understand.

After you left her last night,

Lady Tressilian rang for her maid.

Then Barrett must have seen her...
Alive and well.

What's more,
before she went in to her mistress,

she saw you leaving the house.

But the niblick. My fingerprints.

She must've been killed
with something else.

The club put there
to throw suspicion on you, except,

of course, you're right-handed.

Are you sure there's
no-one who'd like to see you hang?

We took Mr Strange
across at ten-thirty last night.

And did you see him after that?

Did you see him after that?

No, sir, we didn't bring him back.

Have you come across a bloke
called Latimer?

Edward Latimer,
staying over at Easterhead.

Oh, yes, yes. Handsome young chap.

- Looks a bit foreign.
- Could be him.

Didn't see him last night, sir,

though I did see him this morning.

He popped over first thing.
Came back a few hours ago.

Waiter?

Nevile came over last night.

He was very down in the mouth
over something.

Told me
he'd had a row with Lady Tressilian.

And I know things have been a bit ropey
with him and Kay.

He seemed quite glad to see me for once.

Couldn't find you at first, I understand.

Can't think why.

- I was here.
- All the time, sir?

Well, I may have strolled out for a bit.

D'you know,
there was a real stink here last night.

Strange noticed it too.

Drains, I suppose.

Or a dead rat under the floorboards.

So when Mr Strange had found you...

We played billiards,
we had a drink or two,

then I drove him back.

He'd missed the ferry.
I dropped him off around two-thirty.

Oh, just one more thing.

You popped over to
Gull's Point this morning, didn't you?

- Yes.
- Any particular reason?

To pay my respects.

Not that they've ever paid me any, but...

you like to do the right thing, don't you?

He's too pleased with himself, sir.

He's just the type who'd smash

his own granny's head if he'd
get away with it.

Why would he do it, though?
He doesn't stand to gain.

He's a bit fudgey about what he was up to

before Strange tracked him down.

I don't believe it!

Oh, Superintendent!Inspector!
I'm so glad I've caught you.

You seem to pop up everywhere, Miss Marple.

Yes, I do, don't I?

I'd love to stay and chat, but we must get on.

I quite understand, Superintendent.

It's all very convenient, isn't it?

What is, Miss Marple?

The niblick and poor Barrett in a coma.

A little too convenient, perhaps.

It makes the culprit look rather foolish.

And if the culprit were,
for the sake of argument, Mr Strange

he may be many things,
but a fool he certainly isn't.

Gentlemen!

Miss Marple,
we really don't have the time.

Oh...dear, something else.

Sir, we've got to go.

Knobs.

I beg your pardon?

The fender knobs in the bedroom
next door to the bathroom.

I popped in this morning by mistake

and one of them seemed to be...
different from the other.

Of course, it might have been
my imagination, but, er...

Please, don't let me detain you.

You don't want to miss the boat, now,
do you?

Gentlemen!

That's it! That's what she meant.

The left one is brighter than the right.

Check them out, Jones.

I'm worried, Thomas.

Really very worried.

- Mr Treves...
- Why are you worrying about him?

I've been wondering.

That story he told about the child
who shot the arrow...

why exactly he told it.

There's prints on the right-hand one, sir,

but none on the left.

Then this is the one we want.

Those prints'll be the maid's,

which means
this one has been cleaned twice.

Look, sir.

Blood.

I've been trying to remember.

He told it so very deliberately

and he said he'd recognise the person,

as though he already had.

Why should he do that?

You don't think he knew

Camilla was going to be murdered, do you?

I don't think that's very likely.

A word, if I may. It won't take a minute.

You inherit, as I understand it,

half the late Sir Matthew's estate.

- Am I right, sir?
- Yes, that's right.

- Who inherits the other half?
- I told you, my wife.

Yes, but which one, Mr Strange?

Audrey, of course.
She was my wife when the will was made.

The bequest is quite simply worded.

Our divorce
makes no difference whatsoever.

l take it
Mrs Audrey Strange is aware of this?

- Yes.
- And the present Mrs Strange?

Kay? Well, I expect she is.

We've never really talked much about it.

I think you'll find, sir,
that she's under the misapprehension

that the money comes to you and
the present Mrs Strange.

- What the hell are you looking at?
- I'm sorry.

Always lurking around!

I didn't know you were in here.

- Like a bad smell.
- Come on, now.

Oh, she's got it down to a tee,
that pathetic little look.

And Nevile's fallen for it hook,
line and sinker!

No, Kay, That's not it.

Well, you won't get him!

And you won't get his money either!

You've got it all wrong.

I've got you bang on from the start!

You're a scheming little bitch,

and the sooner you get out of our lives,
the better!

Audrey, no!

No, you don't.

What are you doing?

I was just... I was...

Oh, my poor darling.

There's nothing I want any more.

You're so unhappy, aren't you?

You're shivering.

Audrey, I understand.

I do understand.

Don't... No...no...

You'll always be mine...

till the day you die.

Donald! Donald, come here!

- Oh, dear, oh, dear.
- Oh, Donald, you are naughty!

- Down!
- He's very excited, isn't he?

I'm so sorry, Miss Marple.

He just seems to be getting worse
and worse.

Simply honking, isn't he?

Oh, dear! Yes he does seem to be a bit...

You can smell him for miles.

I caught him bouncing on a dead fish
down on the beach.

I'm sure you'd love that,
wouldn't you, Donald?

Oh, he did.

He found it flat out amongst the rocks.

I tried washing him in the sea, but it
didn't make a difference.

He needs a good soaping.
Don't you, Donald?

Do you know,
I smelt exactly the same thing

in the billiards room the other night?

Donald had run off again, naughty boy.

I looked simply everywhere for him.

When I popped into the billiards room,
it hit me. Pooh!

But I still couldn't find him.

Which night was that, Miss Brinton?

Oh, I can't remember exactly,

but that nice Mr Latimer was there
with the tennis player.

Swoon!

- The same smell, you say?
- Oh, Donald, really!

Oh, Donald, behave!

Oh, I'm so sorry!

Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.

Thank you for gathering again.
I realise it's inconvenience

to have a house full of policemen

when you're digesting your breakfast

but there are one or two things.

Who does this belong to?

Is it yours, Mrs Strange?

No, no, it isn't mine.

- Miss Aldin?
- No, it's not my colour.

And it's certainly not mine.

Are you sure it isn't yours,
Mrs Strange?

Perhaps you'd try it on.

She's already told you, Mallard,
it isn't hers.

Snug fit.

Maybe it is mine.

- I'm always losing them.
- It probably is yours.

I found it outside your window,

pushed into the ivy with its pair.

Look here, Superintendent...

Might I have a word?

We've been finding
some very curious things, Mr Strange.

This, for instance...

..which consists,
as you see, of a steel fender knob

screwed and taped
into the handle of a tennis racquet.

Little doubt, I would surmise,

that this is
what was used to kill Lady Tressilian.

Where on earth did you find that?

It looks like Audrey's old racquet.

The knob had been cleaned and put back
on the fender,

but the murderer
had neglected to clean the screw.

We found a trace of blood on that,
Mr Strange.

In the same way,
the handle and the tennis racquet

had been taped together again and
thrown into a cupboard,

where they would doubtless
have remained

If Detectlve Sergeant Jones

hadn't been looking
for something of the kind.

Any fingerprints?

Just one - on the tape binding the racquet.

And of course you're not going
to tell me whose print it is.

The jacket you wore at dinner
on the night of the murder

had brown hairs on the collar.

They're mine, I suppose.

They were a lady's hairs, sir.

And red hairs on the sleeve.

I expect they'd be Kay's.

And the others...

Well, they might be Audrey's.

I caught my cufflink in her hair
the other night.

In which case,
the brown hairs would be on the cuff.

What exactly are you implying?

There's a trace of powder
on the inside of the jacket collar

the same as used by Audrey Strange,

which suggests that,
on some occasion, she must've worn it.

And then there are the gloves.

This is the left-hand one, stained with blood.

She is left-handed, isn't she?

To strike Lady Tressilian
with the right hand

would have been very awkward,

the bed being where it was,

but for a left-handed person...

..no trouble at all.

Are you quite sure this
little get-together

was your idea, sir?

If you're suggesting
that Audrey killed Lady Tressilian

just to get her hands on the money...

I'm not suggesting anything of the sort.

From first to last, this crime has been

directed at you, Mr Strange.

Ever since you left her,

she's been brooding on how to get
her revenge.

In the end, she decided to have
you hanged for murder.

She chose an evening when
you'd quarrelled with Tressilian,

wore your jacket
so it would be stained with blood,

left your niblick in the room

knowing we'd find your prints on it.

But she couldn't account
for ladyship ringing for Barrett,

which meant that
Barrett saw you leaving the house.

It can't be true.
I swear to God, it cannot be true.

Audrey's never borne a grudge against me.

You have the whole thing wrong.

He's right, Superintendent.

You see, I don't believe that Mr Strange

did leave Audrey at all.

But I rather think
that she left him - for Adrlan Royde.

Isn't that so, Mr Strange?

When Audrey was taken in by
the Royde family,

a great rivalry developed between
the two boys.

But then she married Mr Strange

and that was an end to the matter.

Adrian, however, bided his time
and finally made his move.

They planned to run away together.

Then Adrian was killed in a car accident.

That is the reason Audrey went to pieces.

Mr Strange behaved with the utmost chivalry.

He arranged that she should divorce him

and that he would take the blame.

I didn't know anyone knew.

One hears things...

sees things...gradually a picture forms.

So Audrey has no reason
to hate Nevile Strange.

On the contrary,
she has every reason to be grateful,

and when he arranged this visit,

she didn't feel she could refuse.

Audrey Strange,
Superintendent, has no motive.

Motive's one thing, facts are another.

Facts showed that I was guilty
not so long ago!

Am I being asked to believe

that there's someone who hates both
you and Audrey Strange?

Someone who,
should the plot against you fall,

have laid a trail that led directly to her?

Do you know of such a person, Mr Strange?

Do you, Miss Marple?

Superintendent...

..may I have a word, please?

In private.

You want me, don't you?

Mrs Strange,
I have a warrant for your arrest

on the charge
of murdering Camilla Tressilian

on Monday last, September 10th.

I must caution you
that anything you say will be taken down

and may be used in evidence at your trial.

- It's almost a relief.
- No, no, Audrey, say nothing.

But why not, Nevile? I'm glad it's over.

I always knew it was you!
I knew you were up to something!

- Didn't I tell you, Nevile?
- Kay, please!

- Shut up,for God's sake!
- Why don't you look after her?

- I'm all right.
- I should take you away from them.

- Let me come with you.
- No, Nevile.

You stay.

Is there anything I can do, Audrey?

Dear Thomas.

I'd better call my solicitor.

Of course, Mr Strange,

but first, there's a little something
I have in mind.

I feel a bit sick.

Deep breaths, Mrs Strange.
Very good for nausea.

Well, ladies and gentlemen,

what a very odd case this has been.

One of the oddest I've ever known.

And in keeping
with the pervading oddness,

I'd like to ask Miss Marple here
to take the floor.

Mlss Marple...

Thank you, Superintendent.

What the hell is this? A Wl meeting?

The sooner you shut up, Mr Latimer,

the sooner we can get back.

I'll be as quick as I can, I assure you.

Poor Mr Treves, the night he died,

said something quite pertinent,

that detective stories usually begin
with the murder itself,

but from his long career at the bar,

he'd observed that murder usually comes
at the end.

Zero hour, he called it - -
and it's zero hour now.

Lady Tressilian's death, you mean?

No, Miss Aldin,
not Lady Tressilian's death.

I am talking
of the murder of Audrey Strange.

You see,
this is a crime that has long been planned

down to smallest detail
with one object and one object only

that Audrey Strange
should be hanged by neck until dead.

And very cunning it was too.

First, there was
the faked evidence against Nevile Strange.

Which we were meant to see through.

Yes, indeed, and having been presented

with one lot of faked evidence...

..it wasn't thought
likely we'd consider a second edition.

When you come to look at this,

all the evidence against Audrey Strange

could have been faked:

the weapon taken from her fireplace,

the gloves hidden in the ivy,

the prints found
on the roll of tape taken from her room.

And then there was
the way she behaved when she was arrested

Practically admitted her guilt, didn't she?

But if Audrey was the victim, why arrest her?

I have to do my duty, sir.

We have to act on the evidence,

and at the time
there was no evidence to the contrary.

Until Miss Marple came along.

Quite by chance,

I was chatting to a fellow guest
at the hotel,

a young lady
by the name of Diana Brinton.

- The girl with that pesky little dog?
- Yes.

- Yes, Donald.
- Donald!

A pleasant young girl,

but possessed of
rather a fanciful imagination.

She reads a lot of historical novels,
you see.

She happened to mention seeing,

late one night -
the night of the murder, in fact -

a figure on the other side of the bay.

A figure? What exactly do you mean?

A figure.
A figure getting out of the water

and climbing a rope

which hung from a window up there.

Well, I,
of course, thought nothing of it.

It was late at night,

she may have been half asleep and,
as I say,

she has an active imagination.

But in the light of later events,

I began to think there might be some...

substance to what she'd said.

So it was an outsider after all.

Someone who came from
the other side of the river, yes.

Someone who wasn't seen
between ten-thirty

and a quarter-past eleven that night,

and who might've swum
across and back... eh, Mr Latimer?

But I can't swim.

Everybody knows I can't swim.
Kay, tell them.

- Oh, dear, Mr Latimer!
- You pushed him!

She pushed him! Didn't anyone see?

Mm. He can't swim, can he?

We told you that! Teddy!

Jones.

He's going under!

Teddy!

Teddy!

Oh, Teddy!

Poor Teddy!

- See what you've done?
- Are you all right, Mr Latimer?

Of course he's not!
You might've killed him!

No chance of that, Mrs Strange.

Jones is highly proficient
in the life-saving department.

And look on the bright side:

at least
it's eliminated him from our enquiries.

And it can't have been Mr Royde
climbing that rope

because of his arm -

which brings us to you, doesn't it,
Mr Strange?

Are you seriously suggesting...

I swam across the river,
climbed into the house,

killed Lady Tressilian and then
swam back again?

Yes, we are.

Simply extraordinary!
And what about the rope?

You left it there yourself
before you caught the ferry.

So, in other words...
I framed myself, did I?

I rather think you did.

Priceless!

Absolutely priceless!

And why the hell should I want
to kill Camilla?

You didn't,
but you did want to hang the woman

who'd left you for another man,

and the fact
that it entailed killing a woman

who'd been like a mother to you

didn't seem to worry you in the least.

You're a bit unhinged, aren't you?

I'm not the one who's unhinged.

Have been ever since you were a kid.

I looked up
that old bow-and-arrow case, see.

it was the same then.

Anyone who does you an injury
has to be punished.

Flicked you on the raw, didn't it,
when Audrey left you?

So you had to
think up something special for her,

and what better than to get her hanged?

Pity you didn't have the brains
to pull it off.

All that niblick stuff,
powder on the collar,

hair on the cuffs.

We knew what you were up to all along.

Laughing into our sleeves, weren't we,
Miss Marple?

I'm afraid it was all rather childish.

But you see, like so many murderers,

you thought you were being so clever,

when, in fact,
you were being really rather stupid.

Stupid?

Stupid?

It was the perfect plan.

Worked out to the last detail,

and you never would have guessed it
if you, Miss Marple,

weren't such an insufferable busybody!

Watch it, Strange!

And if that old fool Treves
hadn't set you all thinking.

Because he recognised your
long little finger,

didn't he, Mr Strange?

That's why you rushed to his hotel

and put the sign on the lift,

knowing full well
the state of the poor man's heart.

He deserved it. And so does Audrey.

She deserves everything she's going to get.

How dare she run off and leave me!

Me!

For that
miserable little bastard Adrian Royde!

She shall hang!

You've got to hang her!

And I want to be there to hear
her lousy neck crack!

I was afraid of him
as soon as we were married.

A word or a look.

But then I'd fancy
I'd imagined it and that I was mad.

And so it was for years,
until Adrian reappeared

and told me he still loved me,

and suddenly my world fell into place.

We were planning to run away together.

That's why he was down here -
just a year ago.

But the day I went to meet him,
he never came.

Killed in a crash.

And I can't help thinking
Nevile had something to do with it

I think you might be right.

Nevile was very solicitous,

said no-one need know and that
I could divorce him.

I felt so grateful,
but I never felt I'd really escaped.

When he suggested
we should all come down here,

I couldn't refuse.

The story Mr Treves told,
the out-of-order sign on the lift,

even when Camilla was killed
I didn't make the connection.

- When did you realise?
- When he was cleared.

I saw him looking at me and I knew.
And you, Miss Marple?

Oh, one thing, then another.

The smell in the hotel
which that girl recognised

in the billiards room

when Mr Strange was here.
It suddenly came to me:

perhaps he himself was the source of it,

and I could only think of one way

in which he would have come into contact
with a dead fish.

He must be quite a strong swimmer

because he had very little time.

My theory was confirmed

when I saw
a piece of wet rope in the boxroom.

Then after he'd got back into the house,

he put on his other suit,

took the weapon,
which he'd fixed beforehand,

and made his way to Camilla's room.

But we won't go into that.

Then he slipped back out of his clothes,
down the rope,

swam back here to meet Mr Latimer.

Then after Mr Latimer had driven him back,

he had all night to clear up his traces
and set the scene.

Then, of course, there was the bell.

- The bell?
- Mm. By Camilla's bed.

I nearly got it
the morning after the murder,

when I saw a window pole
and the bell-wires on the ceiling.

It was very, very clever of Mr Strange.

He rang the bell for Barrett from outside
in the passage

after his row with Camilla,

so that when Barrett came down,
she'd see him leave,

and thus he'd have his alibi.

Poor Camilla didn't know what she'd rung for

because she hadn't rung at all.

He struck her...back-handed, by the way.

His backhand was always his strong point.

- Good morning, Miss Marple.
- Good morning.

Oh, Donald, come here!

Is that the girl
who saw Nevile climbing the rope?

Yes, it is.

If it weren't for her... I must thank her.

No, no, my dear.

Don't move. I've...I've nearly finished.

It was raining,
wasn't it, the night of the murder?

Yes, it was.

If you'd just, erm...

- She must have awfully good eyesight.
- Mm, yes.

Perhaps she eats her carrots.

Miss Marple!

Well...

as the Superintendent says,

the police have to act on evidence,

so I thought I'd help them along a bit

by suggesting there was a witness.

Fortunately...Mr Strange's confession

has rendered that redundant.

So what you imagined, happened.

Do you have a gift
for this sort of thing, Miss Marple?

You know, sometimes l think l do.

Miss Marple,
would it spoil your sketch if I...?

No, no.

Of course not, my dear.

In fact...

..quite the contrary.

-==http://www.ragbear.com==-