All language subtitles for S04E03 They Do it With Mirrors

Fire!

Fire!

Ruth!

Oh, Ruth, what on earth ...

Oh, Lewis! All my things!

- Lewis!
- Ladies.

Your tea, madam.

Natural, they all put
the fire down to a faulty wire,

but I know what I saw.

There was a man. I can see him now.

He was... was stilling across the hallway.

How would you describe him, Ruth?

- Wicked. Quite, quite wicked.
- I see.

Of course, Carrie Louise says that
I dreamed it all,

but my sister never had any time
for unpalatable truths.

Do you think anyone could
possibly guess, Jane,

that you and I are practically
the same age?

Not for a moment,
I'm sure.

I'm afraid, you see,
I look every minute of my age.

No!

When was it, this fire?

Six weeks ago.

I'd just flown in from New York
for a meeting of the Trustees.

Surely Carrie Louise's husband
must have seen something?

Lewis only has eyes for his dear
wife and her blessed cause.

She's still keeping up with her causes?

Does the sun rise in the morning?

Naturally, such thing is fashionable
when one's a young girl.

I was going to nurse leprous.

You were off to be a nun, I believe.

Yes. Very possibly. But marriage
knocks sense into one,

and God knows Carrie Louise
has had plenty of practice

ever since she threw herself
at that luringly glump.

Her first husband, Mr. Gulbrandsen,

He was something of a
philantropyst, wasn't he?

And two husbands later, she is still
living of his inheritance.

And she's supered herself with
this latest cause.

- Criminals.
- Oh?!

She imagines she can
"do something" with them.

So, there they are,
all living it up in a so-called

"Reform Facility" at the bottom
of her garden.

Gracious. And this is
what you're affraid of?

Jane, I don't know!

All the time I was with her,
I felt this-this presence around her.

And then... that fire in her study.

All her memories went into ashes.

Someone in that house
wishes my sister harm.

- And I dare say this all sounds
quite mad to you.
- Oh, no.

- You believe me?
- I trust your conviction.

Nothing has ever surprised you,
has it, Jane?

Because you always think the worst.

The worst is so often true.

Then you'll go?
As soon as you can?

Do you remember how
she and Gulbrandsen

longed for a child of their own?

Didn't they adopt in the end?

I think I met the child.
A very pretty girl.

Yes. Gina. A bewitching little thing.

Then, as so often happens,
not long after,

Carrie Louise found herself pregnant.

Normally, it's hard lines on the
adopted child,

but not in their case.

Carrie Louise was so anxious not
to make the difference between them two

that when Mildred came along,

if anything, she tended to
over-indulge the little Gina,

while her natural child
was left to fan herself.

Poor Mildred.
She never stood a chance.

- Hello.
- Oh! Hello.

Oh, what a nice trim bag.

You must be ...

The next train on platform one is
the 4:50 from Paddington.

All stations to
Little Peverell tomorrow.

I said you must be Aunt Jane.

- And you must be Gina.
- How did you guess?

Don't answer that. Come on.

This must be the famous facility.

Where mummy keeps her young men.

Incorrigible.

- Who, dear?
- Well, them, of course.

Mommy!

Jane!

My dear Carrie Louise.
How are you?

The flesh is weak, but the spirit's
as stubborn as ever.

Would you take tea?

I always take mine standing up,

or otherwise one would seat around
forever, don't you think?

Allow me to introduce Lewis ...

treasured husband
and chief of my tribe.

- Ow.
- How do you do?

Amateur dramatics.
The things we do for love.

I think you look quite fierce.

- Don't you, dear?
- I have no head for such matters.

My daughter. Mildred.

How very nice to meet you
after this long while.

Likewise.

I've put Miss Marple
in the Fabian Suite, ma'am.

Good thinking.

Jane, this is Juliet Bellever,
who's simply everything to me,

nurse, dragon, watch-dog...
and very faithful friend.

Jolly! What's for dinner?
I'm starved.

As Mr. Kellogg approval,
an excess of protein in the diet

excites all the wrong instincts amongst
with criminal intents

We found in barley
an excelent substitute.

- Isn't that so, Dr. Maverick?
- Indeed.

For what we're about to receive,

may the Lord make us
truly thankful.

Amen.

And may He, in His wisdom,
remind us that without this

and all His gifts,
we're like a routeless ship.

Oh, dear.

Doomed to ...

She's so excited this evening.

- Doomed to perish upon the rocks.
- Amen.

Amen.

Thank you, dear.
Vividly put.

I like us all to eat together
once a week.

I like all my charges to feel like
they're part of the family.

And so we do, my dear.

They make a splendid couple.

I should hope not!

That's my stepson,
Stephen Restarick.

By my second husband, Johnny.

- The theater producer.
- Of course he is.

All matter of waflles and strays
under this roof.

Eveyone's allowed
an error of judgement.

Dad was yours.
Isn't that right, darling?

Stop it! You make my mother
sound quite a farse!

So she is.
A couple of more divorces, I should

carve all her ex'es on the
rock of Mount Rushmore.

Not quite a laughing matter.

Steven has made himself indispensible
to my wife's dramatic review

Carrie Louise chooses me to stage
a show for her every year.

Moral booster for the troops.

Are you in the theater like
your father, Mr. Restarick?

I'm in fabrics,

soft furnishing.

Keeps me out of mischief.

But Stevie is going to storm the
West End, in the spring,

aren't you, darling?

And Gina's husband?

A gentleman called Wally Hudd.
From Wyoming.

Sr. Hudd has a great fondness
for grilled chicken.

What is he doing?

He's mending a toaster.
A very capable fellow.

Wally was a G.I. during
the Normandy landings.

- He and Gina met during D-Day.
- You can imagine.

On the contrary, I think they're
admirably suited.

Did you have a good war, Wally?

Well, it didn't kill me.

But it didn't make me stronger.

May I help you?

No! No,

such a pity, uh? The fire.

Quite.

Set us back some months.

- Edgar Lawson.
- Jane Marple.

So I gather.

Uh... You work for Carrie Louise?

For Mr Serrocold.

I'm his personal secretary.

- Sounds terribly important.
- Has its moments.

- But...
- Ah?

- May I speak in confidence?
- Of course.

Swear it, please.

You see, I have no wish
to compromise his position.

- Mr. Serrocold's?
- No.

My father.

You see, I am, in fact,

Winston Churchill's son.

Yes, I think I do see.

He does what he can,
but they spy on me.

Always have down.

And... the whispering campaign.

If it wasn't for that damned whispering,
you see?

Has anyone's seen Mrs. Serrocold?

I was thinking the same thing.

It's the second time this week
she forgot her tonic.

The woman has no head
for her own safety.

Mrs. Serrocold? Miss Mildred?

Mommy?

- What is that?
- Oh, gosh! Mommy!

Mommy!

Gina!

Come back this minute!
You'll be out of your depth!

Honey, please!

Aren't you going to come in?

A quick leap.
Wonderfully refreshing.

- Gina!
- Advert your eyes.

- You too, bro.
- Don't call me that!

What were you thinking of?

It happens that Stephen mentioned that

a cool dive
does wonders for arthritis.

And you know mommy,
always the first to the barricade.

- But she can hardly swim!
- Oh, nonsense.

Help! Help!

Happy now? Caused sufficient
chaos for one night?

Give me a rest, Mil.

I'm coming!
I'm coming!

Careful, Lewis, it does get deep there.

I'm coming! Hang on!

What do they say, Miss Marple?
Blood ran out?

Is he an able swimmer, Mr Serrocold?

Can anyone here actually swim?

Very good, low lovers,
I'll rescue them myself or die trying.

- You won't do that.
- Gina, don't you dare!

I say, Mildred, who are those young men?

Looks like your prayers
were answered, Mil.

My dear Ruth,

I had hoped to dispel your concerns
over Carrie Louise's safety,

but I fear I can not.

She has the same bright spirit
as ever,

but there may, as you suggested,

be dark forces at play
here in Stonygates.

Gina is as bewitching as you say.

Certainly, the stepson,
Stephen Restarick, finds her so,

while her american husband
looks away, as if indifferent.

And then there is Edgar Lawson.

He is maladjusted, certainly.

But there is something else
a little wrong about Edgar Lawson.

There what is,
and it is and when it touches Carrie Louise,

I can not yet say.

It's so good to see you so well.
I know it's silly,

but the world feels a more secure
place, with you in my side.

What have I done to deserve
such trust?

It must have been a terrible shock
for you. The fire, I mean.

In my study? Oh, no, no.
That was an accident.

It's just ...

Promise you won't breathe a word
of this to my poor Lewis, but ...

Oh, the hero of the hour!

- Albator, Anthony!
- Madam.

Eight cons for burglary,
four for breaking and entering,

and more gravous harm than
I have fingers and toes to count,

but last night,
this gentleman saved my life.

All it takes is a little dignity,

though try and say that
to the Home Office.

And this is Whitstable Ernest.

How are your tomatoes prospering?

Ripe as prune, ma'am.

Care to try one, madam?

Very nice. Thank you.

Mr. Serrocold's fully recovered
from his paddle, I hope?

Oh, quite. Off to London
in the first train this morning.

- Business, I expect.
- That's right.

Ernest once took a great interest
in finantial matters.

Yes, got a bit ahead of myself,
didn't I, ma'am?

He used to invest other people's money
without their permission.

Still, I fell on the insight
to look back on those imaturities.

You have green fingers, I see.

Thank you. And happily free to use them.

Lakeside view, a excellent
piece of garden.

Can't think a more pleasant place
to relax on.

Put like that, I feel
I might join you.

Well, there's always room for one more.

- Mrs. Serrocold?
- Jolly?

- There's a gentleman to see you.
- Oh?

I'll be along in a moment.

Christian!

- Not whom you were expecting?
- I didn't know.

Wrapped as you were, in such mystery!

Nonsense. I told Lewis last night.
Didn't he tell you?

Oh, perhaps he did.

I'll get Jolly to prepare
Kier Hardie's room.

Oh, Jane, I'm so sorry.
Allow me to present Christian.

My other stepson, by way of
my late and beloved first husband.

Ah, Mr. Gulbrandsen's son.

- I see. Well, I think I do.
- Madam.

I hope you don't deserting us
too soon this time.

- Well...
- At least stay for the weekend?

I was hoping
to have a word with Lewis.

Business matter.
All very tedious.

Well, he's not here, so
you'll jolly have to wait!

So much the matter.

Come, let us show you the garden.

Such a lovely day.

They might have consulted me.

Mr. Lawson!

I'm Mr. Serrocold's p-personal secretary,

so, Gulbrandsen should have come to me,

- if it's all so urgent.
- Indeed.

They take me for a fool.

But I know. That's the point.

What do you know?

He has the devil in him.

Who? Mr. Gulbrandsen or... your father?

Just you wait and see.

Leave her alone.

Spying on me?

Can't you see the old dame wants
some peace? Go on and splt.

Gladly.

Is that coffee you have there?

Perhaps you could spare a drop.
My nerves!

- I make it pretty strong.
- Well, that's the way I like it.

A cup of Joe. Isn't that the way
you Americans call it?

Or is that just for the pictures?

You know, I sometimes wonder
who or what Joe is.

Well ... God bless him,
whoever he is.

Cheers.

You know, when I look out,
on all this,

I begin to feel a little homesick
for my asters (flowering plants).

You and I, both.

- You have asters?
- Oh, no, I... hmm.

- Homesick.
- Yeah.

Well, there's only one
known cure for that.

Try telling that to princess.

What have I got to give her?

Two crummy rooms and
a gas station.

Hello. Stonygates.

Very good, sir.

There's no need.
I've already indormed the groundsman.

I'll see to it myself. Goodbye.

- Was that Mr. Serrocold?
- Yes, sir.

He'll be home in the 04:27,
as planned.

Perhaps I might drive up and
meet him from the station?

He prefers to walk.

Very good... Miss Bellever.

I should see about dinner.

Miss Marple.

Oh! Mr. Gulbrandsen!

Just off for a little lie down.

Well, don't let me keep you.

Miss Marple, you've known Carrie-Louise...

Oh, most of my life,
would you believe?

Such a comfort.

- Old friends.
- I'd like to think so.

We have a different perspective,
one might say.

How do you find her?

As great an idealist as ever.

Maybe she does not appreciate
the evil there is in the world

Tell me, how is her health?

She seems to me well enough.

Appart from the arthritis.

And her heart?

Is her heart strong?

As far as one can tell,
Mr Gulbrandsen.

Until supper time.

Enjoy your... shut eye.

Let's hope to spare Carrie Louise
from knowledge...

If it could be carried away
from her... because of her...

Oh, dear.

That's it. No, no, no, keep going.

More into the center. Left in there.

Left, left, left, no, no, right, right.

Left. Okay, up.

To the right.

A bit further to the right?

Just a bit.

Oh, dear.

Further.

Sorry, old girl.

Oh, Mil! I thought you didn't
approve of such things.

- Try anything once.
- I bet.

Christian, I hope you'll stay
for the dress rehearsal.

I'm a little weary.

Could I have some paper and a
typewriter brought up to my room?

Of course.
Miss Bellever?

I'll see to it at once.

How nice. All of us together
under the same roof.

Yes.

Could you give me a hand with this?

Where's your Mr Lawson?

Edgar?

Well, I don't know.
Night off, I expect.

Oh, if there's anything more I can do ...

You sit tight and weep
like a black sheep.

Oh. All right.

All set?

Ooh! That's not your cue!

Well, I'm here now.
Let's go on with it.

Spoken like a "pro".

Madam, you forgot your tonic.

♪
♪ Oh, hang on.

I normally do this.

I'm sorry, my darling.
I've quite forgotten.

- Oh! It doesn't matter.
- Butter fingers.

It doesn't matter, Lewis.
Really, it's not important.

Never mind, Jolly, put it down.
I'll take it later.

- Oh, I wonder, Miss Marple?
- What?

I wonder,
if you wouldn't mind...

W-well, I don- I don't seem
to have my glasses.

- On your head?
- No. Oh! Yes, it is.

Hang on with it!

♪♪ ♫ ♪♪

I have travelled far
and wide ...

.. to ...

I believe it's "to hail you".

"to hail you ..."

To hail you... to the
great gods of our tribe.

Dear me.

They say that I, Big Chief
Running Bear,

must brave all ...
for the love of my dear.

- "Third and finest", Lewis?
- What?

Third and finest.

Oh! Oh, quite.
Sorry. Sorry.

My third and finest squaw,
Summer Rain.

- Oh, Gina, you look lovely!
- Good grief!

That's a lovely dress.

♪ ♪

Here we go.

Her beauties eyes
most pleasantly framed.

Oh, bravo! Most eloquent, Stevie.

Edgar? Edgar!

Sit down.

- Oh! Not again!
- Wires on the blink.

- I'll go and check the fuse box.
- Good man, Wally.

Well, what now?...

Shall we carry on,
maestro, or er ...?

- Careful!
- Steady, Eddie!

- Something wrong, Edgar?
- You dare to ask me that?

- Calm as you like, when ...
- He's got a gun!

- It's just a toy.
- He's playing.

I've got your attention, everybody?
Everybody focused?

Come on, old man, it's enough
theatrics for one night.

I want the truth!
And I want you all by witness.

- ♪ By witness, by witness ♪
- Be still, I'm speaking the truth.

Stephen, that really isn't helping!

Ok, you're scaring us now.

Look at you!
Just standing, you're pathetic!

Will somebody please,
get Wally?

Chasing your every whim ...

He's gone and locked the bloody door!

Put the gun down, Edgar.

A nod here, a smile there,
"Thank you, Mr Serrocold!"

Edgar!

"How many sugars, Mr Serrocold?"

"Tea, sweet enough for you, Mr Serrocold?"

- Somebody do something!
- Don't be silly. He's harmless.

How can you say that?

Don't you just stand there,
with your mouth.

Give me that gun!

- Nobody move!
- Mr. Lawson.

Don't you think that you might be
more comfortable inside?

Nobody move!

All this time it was you,
the whispering, the plotting!

- Edgar, please,this is madness.
- You promised to help me!

- Edgar, enough!
- More to fool me, hey?

Never trust anyone,
at least not in this den of ...

Look at you!

They ought to send a lot of you
out of this precious litle fecility

and see how you ...

I told you not to move!

- Come here! Come here!
- It's all right, Edgar.

- On your knees! On your knees!
- I'm not going to hurt you.

On your knees!

Lewis!

That hurt!

Got you! Come on,
drop it, drop it!

- There we are. The Show is over!
- Edgar! The key.

Not exactly a big game, is it?

But I suppose you can always
try boiling him over to a stop.

- Father?
- Stephen!

What's he doing here?

Lewis Serrocold?
Glad to meet you, old man.

Oh, Edgar, whatever next?
Search for Dr. Maverick, will you?

Did I hear gunshots?

- So you must be...
- Big Chief Johnny Restarick.

Fresh from the happy hunting grounds
of Soho and Garrick.

And former tenant of
the great white bed.

Any chance of something moist
in a glass, old man?

Why not?

Ha! Look at you,
my Botticelli angel!

We have to call the police.

Oh! There's no need to fuss.
Edgar is quite himself again.

And Lewis is fine. Aren't you, darling?

It wasn't Mr. Serrocold
I was thinking of.

He was always so precise
about his appearance.

I'm so sorry.

How could anyone do
such a thing?

Forgive me, Carrie Louise,
but had you any idea that

your former husband was coming
to Stonygates tonight?

Johnny?

Yes. How did you know?

Earlier, dear, when
we were near the glasshouse,

you tried to tell me
what was troubling you.

Yes, you see ...

.. Johnny kept writing me
these long letters,

like some supplicant at the gate,

threatening to end it all,
if I turned him away.

- And you gave him hope?
- Never!

Though heaven knows
what Lewis will make of it.

He gets into the most deadful huff

if he so much sees Johnny's name
in the newspaper.

- Mrs. Serrocold?
- Do come in.

Inspetor Curry, ma'm.
My assistent, sargeant Lake.

- Your stepson, I gather.
- That's right.

About my late first husband.

Dreadful shock, a bit of a
late night, I imagine.

Jane Marple. Friend of Mrs. Serrocold.

Chair for the lady, Sargeant.

So ... let's see if I got this straight.

The deceased arrived today on a
pressing matter of business

with your husband, Mr. Lewis Serrocold.

The deceased then retired to
his room after a light supper,

where he was stabbed in the back ...

..while the rest of the company
were busy downstairs, locked

in the drawing room, for a
theatrical performance that went a riot

on account of a Mr... Edgar Lawson.

That's correct.

Nothing to concern you there, inspector.
A momentary aberration.

One of your convicts, hey,
this Edgar Lawson?

- What of it?
- What's he in for?

Oh, I see.

Edgar rather pressed his atention
on one or two pillars of

society. Mr. Churchill ...
Viscount Montgomery, and so on...

He's been with us two years.
He's made great strides.

And he had access to the gun room?

- Edgar is my husband's personal secretary.
- I see.

From time to time, we employ
individuals from the facility.

Those who'd benefict
from added responsability.

Where is he now, this Mr. Lawson?

Asleep. Dr. Maverick sedated him.

- And were the other convicts?
- Safely under curfew.

All the gates of the property
are locked at 05:00PM sharp.

Of course.

This er... would be the murder weapon, then.

Military fiber.

Familiar at all?

It belonged... belongs
to a Mr. Wally Hudd.

US... Army knife.

The American who left the locked room
to fix the wire?

He kept that knife in his room.

Absolutely anybody
could have taken it.

I think we've cleaned as much as
we can from the crime scene.

I'd like Gina to see me to my room.

Miss Gina!

Oh, Inspector. I'm sorry.

I did wonder ...
The typewriter.

Uh ...It's an Imperial Good Companion

Unless I have my evenings
muddled, I...

I seem to recall that
late Mr. Gulbrandsen

requested a typewriter and paper
to be brought up to this room?

Yes, that's right.

It struck me as a little odd,

one would imagine
he wished to write correspondence,

only...it doesn't appear to be any.

- Miss Bellever?
- As a matter of fact, there was a letter.

I thought I told no one to tuch a thing.

- Who was up in here?
- Only Mr. Lewis Serrocold.

Very good.

- Thank you. Thank you, Miss hum ...
- Marple. Quite welcome.

- Anything else up your sleeve?
- Not especially.

Only ...

There was a rather unusual incident
after dinner with

Mrs. Serrocold's tonic.
Her husband appeared to spill it.

But I'm quite sure
he meant to drop it.

Miss Bellever was rather put out.

Splendid, you caught all that?

Just a little thing, of course,

but after my conversation with
Mr. Gulbrandsen earlier in the day

- You spoke with the victim?
- Only briefly, I'm affraid.

But he said something rather unusual.

He asked out of
Carrie Louise's health.

"Is her heart strong?"

- Her heart?
- Those were his words.

What did he mean by that ?

Peraps Lewis Serrocold can shed
more light on the matter.

They were having a talk
this evening in the park.

I just happened to be looking
out of my window.

You are not new to this game,
are you, Miss.. Marple ..?

What about a song?
Will cheer us all up.

Look at this.

"I, Big Chief Running Bear, must
brave all for the love of ..."

Who wrote this drivel?

I did, as a matter of fact.

Ah, not to worry.
Gimme a pencil,

we'll see if we can
turn this around.

No! We're very good as we are,
thanks all the same.

- I think it's jolly good.
Well, I stand corrected.

Oh, hello, is that the time?

I say, you couldn't
free the Oktober Suite

for a former comrade, could you?

- He's not sleeping in here.
- No choice, old man.

- Copper's orders.
- Very well.

I dare say that we can accomodate
the gentleman in Skid Row.

That's more like is.

Miss Bellever, will you deliver our
guest to the facility?

Thank you.
...What?!

I'm sure you'll find the accomodation
adequate to your needs.

Quite correct on both counts.

Christian and I did speak before dinner.

And there was indeed a letter
in the typewriter.

Ah!... I have it with me now.

I take a dim view, sir,
of those who tamper with my evidence.

Of course you do.

But you see, I knew my wife
wanted to view her late stepson's body,

and if she got a glimpse to...
letter's contents...

All sounds very grave, sir.

Why a matter of businees
could be so--

It has nothing to do with business!

- Well, you were colleagues.
- In some way.

Christian Gulbrandsen was a fellow
Trustee of his late father's estate

together with myself and
my wife's sister,

Ruth van Rydock.
A sound head for business.

Anyway I take care of
day-to-say running.

I have a background in auditiing.

The three of us like to meet,

at least once a year, to keep
an eye on the accounts.

When we last met,
Christian outlined some concerns ....

Mas, ever cautious,
he did not round to specifics,

not until he made inquiries.

He wanted to be sure, you see.
And tonight ...

.. He finally confessed the truth.

We agreed that he should write
to Ruth at once and seek her advice.

There, there! Read it.

"Dear Ruth ...

.. A crisis of extraordinary
gravity has risen

and I'm at a lost
in how to deal with it. "

"I know how your deep affection
is for Carrie Louise,

how grave your concern
for anything that affects her.

Not to beat about the bush,
reason to believe

she is beig slowly and
cold-blodedly poisoned.

I first suspected this when ... "

And here he breaks off.

He was murdered.

Unbelievable.

Only living with her,
"in and out of each other's pockets",

one doesn't see the little changes.

And you think that Christian Gulbrandsen
knew the identity of the poisoner?

He had an idea.
If only I had pressed him.

I wanted you to know, Miss Marple,

as an old friend of my wife's.

Thank you. To all of you.

You agree, it's imperative
she discovers no hint of this threat?

If the woman's in danger,
she needs to be aware of the risk.

But who would wish harm
on Carrie Louise?

A woman so universally admired.

What possible motive?

Well, most of the house were
locked in the drawing room,

Mr. Serrocold here with a gun
pointed by the harmless Edgar Lawson

Yes, that would seem to narrow the field.

If I could just ...thanks.

Like I told you, I came straight here.

The er... crazy british wiring,

the fuse box was burned,
the second time that night.

- Second, sir?
- Yeah. That's what I've told.

The lights went off
about seven o'clock.

Can you explain what your knife
was doing in that fellow's back, sir?

I... well, it was in our bedroom,

second drawer, bedside table.
Anybody could have taken it.

Anybody.

Do you believe him?

I never had much simpathy
toward americans.

At least this one did his bit in the war.

- What about house staff?
- Night off.

The ex-husband? Johnny Restarick?

I think it was him, sir.
It has to be.

He's the only other person who's
unaccounted for. Right, sir?

I think we can do better than that.

Never underestimate the power of
the obvious, sargeant Lake.

- Sir?
- Flotted jailbirds,

rotten to the core,
simmering in their own juices.

The leopard don't change it's spots,
not in West Bucks.

Certainly well drawed, Sir.

Apparently, they do training
like this, every morning.

Training for what?

- What's he doing here?
- Lewis Serrocold's orders.

Not keen on the competition, hey?
Come on.

Sr. Restarick. A word, if you please.

If you ask me,
Lewis wants a closer look.

I mean, these city suits,
are just glorified clerks,

coming from the west,
Friday night, you know.

Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
Oh, please,

I've seen it dribbling down his chin.

- What brought to Stonygates?
- Love gave me wings.

- Got to get fit, you see.
- For Mrs. Serrocold?

Look, everybody is entitled to
a second chance, aren't they?

- Except for muderers.
- Oh, please.

So, you came walking from the station,
proceeded through the park,

til the back of the main house.
Is this correct, sir?

Perfect suspect, aren't I?
Quite alone, no witnesses.

Seen anything, sir,
on your way round to the house?

Now, I did one of my mad,
criative turns.

Here, I wouldn't expect you
to understand that.

- How could you?
- I might.

Well, it was the fog that got me going,

standing there,
in the darkness of the garden.

Footsteps. And then the gun.

And I thought to myself: now that's

exactly the effect that I want
for my Limehouse Nights.

- My ballet?
- Footsteps?

- Where from?
- Impossible to say, old man.

So, you crossed the garden
to the french windows.

Yeah. Yes. Well, fancied
to a closer look.

Anything wrong with that?

I blame myself.

Christian dead, and now
Gina's young american.

You think Wally might have
committed the murder?

I don't know what to think.

But sometimes I wonder.

The way she rushed into the marriage,

was it for want of a mother's affection?

If I'd been less consumed
with my own work.

If I'd given more time,
or more energy.

A child needs to feel
cherished in the nursery, doesn't she?

Or she'll never come to know
her own value.

Above all, an adopted child.

What was that?

Oh, no, look!

Stop! Police!

Stop!

Police!

Wally!

Oh! Oh, Wally!

Is he breathing?

Are we there?

This is monstruous!
I should have been summoned at once!

I am a Trustee.
I have rights.

And if someone is trying
to kill my sister ...

No "if" about that, I'm affraid. I just
received a telegram confirming

the presence of arsenic
in Mrs. Serrocold's bottle of tonic.

- Then we must tell her at once!
- For pete's sake, Ruth!

Keep your powder dry
until the morning, will ya?

Oh, how perfectly quaint!

No wonder you people have lost
the Empire.

- There's a killer on the loose!
- You think I don't know that?

You think I don't hold my breath

every time she lifts a spoon to her lips?

I'm trying to protect my wife
as lovingly as I can.

You're making too much fuss of her.
You always have.

How is Mr. Hudd fairing?

Oh, we'll have him
off your in no time, ma'am

just as soon as he's fit to move.

How would I know
what he's been up to?

How would I know
the first thing about him?

I'm only his wife, after all!

Sorry. Such mess.

Found this in a drawer, somewhere.

It's the er... air of contriver,
as I don't care for.

What?

Well, I was just thinking
how convenient it all was,

there we were in the drawing room,
safely under locking key,

preciselly the moment when ...

I get it your point.
But if there was no other way out ...

Wally! No!

Gina? Gina!

Don't you dare, gents!
Don't you dare!

Get away from them!

Get away! I won't let you ...

You can't take him away.

I've got something very
important to tell the Inspector!

What fresh air is this, hey?

- Here, take.
- Ah.

- Please, please, Gina!
- Let go!

- Come! Leave him!
- Gina, please!

Calm down, please.
This isn't helping at all.

- He hasn't done anything!
- Come inside.

Now, young lady, what was it
you wanted to show us?

Anyone of us could have left
this room to murder poor Christian.

There, you see?

Come on, sargeant Lake. Come on.

Go on.

This way, Inspector.

Come.

Where does she go?

Sir, look. Matches.

- Recents?
- I should say.

Interesting smell.

- Diesel?
- Possibly.

So, you see, Inspector,
any of us could have done it.

That's absurd. Once
Mr. Lawson started firing,

we were all frozen to the spot.

Nobody moved?

Everyone present and correct
throughout Mr. Hudd's absence?

- And I want all of you to be my witnesses.
- Absolutely.

But the lights were out.

I know what I saw.

Stephen?

He was lurking at the piano.
I told him not.

Stephen, that really isn't helping.

No, no. Stephen went for help.

All these weeks writing
your letters.

He's gone and locked the bloody door!

And er ... where did he go after that?

I couldn't honestly say.

And young Mrs. Hudd?

Gina?

She was with me, just behind the others.

You quite certain of that fact?

Well, now that you press me ...

.. She came away from the window ...

Will somebody, please,
get Wally?

.. in that preposterous outfit,

but then ...

You don't think my sister could ...

Now, we are not jumping
to any conclusions.

Well, she's always been flighty.
Unpredictable, volatile.

And she's sticking to mamma like
fly-paper since the moment she got here.

What, Mildred?

Well, she knocked in that little table.

After that,
I don't know where's she gone to.

So, now, Inspector

you're not really going to arrest
my Wally, are you?

What are you doing out here?

Smell that?

Giant red-wood.

Smells of America.

This baby is about the last thing
in this damn place I can count in.

Don't be so melodramatic

anyway, this "baby" is a Wellingtonia,
not redwood.

- Makes no difference.
- Wally.

Wally, where were you going
in that bicycle?

What about me?

- Darling, what're you doing?
- Keeping busy.

Oh, has he been a brut again?

- He's not a brut.
- Of course not.

But a chap like that,
and a gal like you,

he doesn't know what makes you tick.

- How could he?
- What makes me tick?

A flat in town.

A wardrobe heaving
with pretty clothes.

And a cow-eyed lover
who doesn't leave crums in the bed.

Am I right?

- You don't know the first thing about me.
- I know all I need.

One day, I'm gonna be as rich as Croesus.

As soon as I receive my play off.

And you, my dear, you shall be
as rich as Mrs. Croesus.

Marry me.

Idiot!

You like to having men
mooning after you, don't you?

Yes. Is it very cruel?

Yes. Terribly.

Still...

..in a few years
the magic will soon wear off

and no-one will look at me
ever again.

And everyone, even you ...

.. will see how truly rotten
how really am.

Stephen!

Hello, Mil.

How could you?

I don't know why I'm surprised.

Anything goes with Gina.
Or anyone.

Please, don't say anything.

You won't say anything, will you, Mil?

- It's the timing that sickens me.
- Timing?

- Mother being poisoned.
- What?

Ha, didn't you hear?

- With arsenic, aparently.
- Give it a rest, Mil.

Mm... mark the air of tragic surprise.

Don't come with innocent
with me, young lady.

As I said, blood will out.

Who had most to gain from the
poisoning of Mrs. Serrocold?

In the event of my wife's death,

the estate is to be divided
equally between our daughters,

Gina and Mildred.

And, in addition 10.000 to
her companion..

Miss Bellever?

And a further 10 000 for young Stephen.

No end of motive.

And you, sir, if you don't mind
my asking?

Oh, Lewis is rolling in money
of his own.

Not quite, if I may put it.

The paperwork looks rather new.

Yes. My wife had to
rewritten it six weeks ago.

- On account of the fire?
- That's right.

Anything altered?

Well,

only the extra funds for Stephen.

I wouldn't read anything into that.

I think my wife
was rather concerned

when its latest musical project
went south.

And did he know this?
Did he know about the extra cash?

- I believe my wife did tell him.
- Mistifier.

She is miles away.
Miss Marple?

I'm so sorry.

I was thinking about Edgar Lawson
and how very odd it was.

Go on.

Well, he has a complex,
if that's the term,

to do with his father,
Winston Churchill, Viscount Montgomery.

And I'm sure that must be
some sad story at the root of it.

Hm, a child without a name,

- probably mothered by some street girl.
- Ruth!

- You know nothing about the case.
- I don't need to.

It's called feminin intuition.
Isn't that right, Jane?

Perhaps it is, although I do wonder,
why do turn on you,

the one person that has done more
for him than anyone else?

And why that night,
at the very moment of the murder?

Odd..., as you say.

Well, it's more than that, isn't it?

It's almost as if somebody
put the idea into his idea.

Purposely knowing young
Lawson would go off the deep end?

What a perfect cover that would be,

everybody focused on young Lawson,
specially if that somebody

had thoughtfully supplied a revolver
from the gun room.

- What I did wasn't just wrong, was just ...
- Mr. Lawson.

No, let me finish.

It was unconscious, unforgivable.

After all he did for me, was--

Mr. Lawson, are you chipping
those potatoes, or what?

As I said, the fault was on
my head alone.

- Arrest me if you like, I don't care.
- All in good time, sir.

Nobody said anything to me

regarding Mr. Serrocold,
or anybody else.

I just get angry and muddled.

Mr. Churchill has his black dog and I ...
and I have my red mist.

Nobody said a word?
Mr. Stephen Restarick, for instance?

No!

- Nobody else?
- You're quite sure?

- Transference is a very slippery fish.
- Transference?

Simply put, the redirection

of the patient's experiences
to some significant other ,

in this case, the pater or father,

onto the Tabula Rasa of those
closest to him.

All you are saying is that

Edgar Lawson came to believe that
Lewis Serrocold was his Pop?

In a word.
Yes, exactly. Mm.

Indeed, it could be that in
Edgar's imagination, the pater

familias was more an object of rage,
rather than worship.

In fact, this "spy"
of whom he constantly talks,

always watching and whispering:

could simply be a
representation of the absent father.

So, "round the twist", was he?

No. Please, Inspector, never,
never use that term.

Besides, up until the last few weeks,

one was making great
strides with Edgar.

Where were you, on the night of
the murder, Dr. Maverick?

I was here, in the facility.

I've made a note of my movements
with approximate timings.

Quick, quick!
Mr. Ernest is very ill. Quick!

Upstairs into the infirmary.

We mustn't transform physical
trauma into mental trauma,

whatever we do.

Upstairs!
Take him upstairs!

Madam.

Oh!

I say...?!

What the devil?

- Oysters?
- Oysters.

Rotten.

- Must be.
- No wonder he was off-colour.

Sir!

So... this is how
you feed them water, is it?

- Them?
- The convicts.

His name is Ernest,

and for the record, I have no idea
of how those supplies have got in there.

I think I could far them a guess.

Oh, would you look at that?

The keys of the kingdom.

Perhaps your Mr. Ernest could
come and go as he pleased.

He must be helping himself
fom the kitchen.

Or as he took a byte to eat
after he slipped some arsenic into

Madam's tonic, which also can be
found in the kitchen .

He hails from Whitstable, I believe.

Home of oysters.

Quite right.

One imagines a fellow bought up
around this particular kind of food

would know immediately if they were...

- Off?
- Quite.

You think the oysters
were poisoned?

Of course.

- Sir?
- Ruth ordered them for Carrie Louise.

One of my wive's very
few indulgences.

Oh, whatever will they think of next?

Might this be the time
to break the news to Carrie Louise?

Someone in my own home
is seeking to poison me,

and my own dear Christian murdered
before he could name my enemy?

I'm sorry, my love, it was my decision
to keep all this from you.

I knew something was up,
didn't I, Jane?

- So you came here ...
- On my orders.

I knew you wouldn't have agreed,
so I didn't ask you.

My dear sister, how very prescient!

We're only trying to help here!

Forgive me.
I only wish I had come sooner.

Indeed.

And how is dear Ernest?

Unconscious, but alive, thank goodness.

The poison must work his way through it.

That will teach him to keep
his thieving hands to himself.

- Provided he lives long enough.
- Oh, come off it, sis!

If you really wish to reform
these people,

there are simpler and
more economical ways to do it.

And that's your remedy for a broken world?
Let them eat arsenic?

Darling!

Well, sometimes, I think she wants
everything I do to fall appart,

so that she can prove the world is
as savage and heartless as she is!

Not interrupting, I presume?

Not at all, I was just leaving.

Ruth, you've only just got in here.

Madam, I gather you've ordered in

several boxes of oysters
for tonight's supper.

Yes! Have you seen the filth
they serve in this place?

Beige! Beige! Everything's beige!

I would ask that nobody
leave this compound.

Don't be absurd.

Would you mind seeing that
my bags

are brought down to my car,
please? Thank you.

I'm a er ...

Ruth and Carrie Louise
have always been the best of sisters ...

providing they maintain
an ocean between them.

And Johnny Restarick?

Is he the best of ex-husbands?

"The jury is out".
Is that the phrase?

Shall we?

Still, it's not easy to conduct
a poisoning campaign

from the bordellos of
London theatrical district

An excellent point, Inspector,
very well made.

Oh, thank you.

You know, it did occur to me,

that we've all been so busy,
wondering if the convicts

could have climbed the
main gate to the house

that we lost sight of the other gate.

Other...?

Here, by the lodge.

Johnny Restarick claims that
he entered the house through the park.

I gather these are locked every
evening at five o'clock sharp.

One wonders,

how did a gentleman, past his physical
prime get over it or through?

Well, unless someone
gave him a helping hand.

His son. Stephen.

We know he stands
to gain from the will.

Perhaps,

although I don't sense any
great intimacy between father and son.

Well, who then?

It was the phone call that struck me.

There's no need.
I've already informed the groundsman.

I'll see to it myself.

Goodbye.

- Was that Mr. Serrocold?
- Yes, sir.

He'll be home in the 4:27
as planned.

If I may presume, Inspector?

What small task were you so quick
to entertain, this day?

You were unlocking the gates,
weren't you?

For Mr. Serrocold?

Or so they might have left open,

giving another visitor access to
to the house, later on that night?

Johnny Restarick.

Quite dashing in his way,
isn't he, Miss Bellever?

I used to think so.

No great crime in that,
surely?

I'd go up to town,
once a fortnight,

on my day off...
catch a matinée.

I ran into Johny after the show.

He was in his element.

It all seemed so glamorous,
after long afternoons in the country.

I was seduced, I supposed.

Then, Johnny started up
about Carrie Louise.

He had to talk to her.

She had to be told,

or our affair would be
"tainted by deception".

Of course, the minute
the lights came up,

I saw what a fool I'd been.

Look at you,
my Botticelli angel.

I was a convenience.

A ruse for Johnny
to get back in to Carrie Louise.

His vanity wouldn't allow it,
you see.

For her to be married again.

He couldn't bare
to be left behind.

Did Mr. Restarick persuade you

to put poison
in Mrs. Serrocold's tonic?

I would never lay
a finger on Mrs. Serrocold.

Never.

Marks...

Set... Go!

Look, I'm devoted to Carrie Louise.

Why would I want to "bump her off"
(murder) for,

and with arsenic, of all things?

Personnally, I got a
a weakness for curare.

A much underrated poison.

Give it some force, Sargeant!

What does all of this aid of, anyway?

Just trying to get
my facts in order.

You were standing here when
the first shot was fired, correct?

If you say so.

The question is,

the moment
the lights went out at the house,

how much time does a gentleman need?

For what, exactly?

To enter the house, sort up
on poor Mr Gulbrandsen,

then out again,

ready to your great entrance
at the drawing room.

See? One minute seven seconds.

Murder is a lot quicker
than people generally imagine.

I'm not half as quick
as your sargeant.

What? In the sate of his lungs?

But it's hardly scientific, is it?

I mean, you don't even know
where I was standing.

You only have word for it.

You might in love with her,

but you rather see her dead

than happily settled
with Mr Serrocold, hey?

You're worse than
Dashiell Hammett.

Time to make track
for the facility.

The curtain goes up in 15 minutes.

You're not seriously
going ahead?

The show must go on,
apparently.

Oh, Lewis, this is hopeless.

Oh, don't worry, my love.

The Cherokee will take it
on the chin.

- There, Edgar, what do you think?
- Very smart, sir.

Now, for the "pièce de résistance".

Where is Gina?
I haven't seen her all afternoon.

She's getting ready in her room.

She was muttering
about... Katherine?

OK, everyone, 15 minutes.

I thought I said you're not
to come into the house.

What are you so affraid of, old man?

I thought it was obvious,

considering you murdered
poor old Christian,

battered my secretary,

and now you're accused
of poisoning my wife.

Take that back! I did no such thing!

Simple statement of the factos, old man.

Right! Come on, then.
Come on. On your feet!

All right, all right,
whenever you're ready!

- Father!
- Lewis!

Johnny, you have only
yourself to blame.

The chap flew at me.

You tripped over a chair,
you silly goose.

I just wished a bit more
of attention, that night,

the night of the murder.

One gets so used to see the world
as a sort of stage.

One lives in a state of
constant illusion.

It's real enough, though,
isn't it, a stage set?

Contrivance it may be,
but it's so real.

Hammers and nails.
Timber and paint.

Contrivance.

Of course.

Where're you going?

Your chappie with the oysters:
has he come 'round yet?

No. Still out for the count.
Why do you ask?

Oh, it doesn't matter.

And uh ...

and thank you.

What for?

Would you look at these nails?
Just look at them.

Will you promise you'll let let me cut them
for you, after the show,

uh? Promise?

♪ The sentries think it's a football
that she carries in...

♪ And when they feel, they ask
"Is Arsenal going to win?"

♪ They think it's Alec James,
instead of poor Ana Bolena

♪ with her head...
tucked... underneath her arm

♪ with her head...
tucked... underneath her arm...

♪ She walks on Bloody Tower

♪ with her her head...
tucked...underneath her arm ...

Hey! Stephen!

Dad! Where's Gina?
Where's Gina? She's next.

- Knock them dead, hey?
- Thanks.

- You're watching?
- Wouldn't miss it for the world.

♪ With her head
tucked underneath her am

♪ At midnight

- Your turn. Go!
- Oh! I forgot.

Where's my squaw?

Ready when you are.

What tribe are you, then?

Watch out for the cavalry!

Lewis!

Lewis!

Bugger!

I have travelled far and wide
to hail you from...

G? G!

To know that I... Chief Running Bear,

must brave all for
the love of my dear.

My third and finest squaw,
Summer Rain.

Her beauties, beauties eyes
pleasantly framed.

She comes,

and I am struck of fresh
by Cupid's darts.

She haunts my every wishes,
my thoughts, my...

Gina?

Katherine.

Oh, my God.

Tell me it was an accident.

See?

Severed.
With a blade, I should imagine.

On the other hand,
there is one silver learning.

What's that ?

At least this time, my sargeant and I
are among the witnesses.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Any known contact between
the two victims

prior to the murders, Mr. Serrocold?

Johnny and Christian?

None that I'm aware of.

According to some of the inmates,

Sr. Restarick headed of with
Whitstable Ernest, so called.

Did he ?

Co-conspirators?

So, Johnny had two insiders
helping him revenge on the ex.

The convict and the Bellever woman.

And that's just the ones we know about.

Come, I want more men
on these borders!

Oh, dear.

What is it, Jane?

- You're not standing for your tea.
- No.

Not today.

Poor Johnny.

My favorite mistake.

Would you tell me about Katherine?

- Who?
- Katherine Ellsworth.

The murderess.

Hanged, 4th of September 1927,
in Portland.

"Mrs. Ellsworth, found guilty on

"three counts of poisoning
with arsenic, whore a simple

simple dress of printed cotton on her
final journey to the gallows.

She spoke only to decline
the offer of prairs ... "

Where did you find that?

In Gina's room, this morning.

Katherine Ellsworth was
Gina's birthmother, wasn't she?

Yes.

And the same urges
can be seen in the daughter.

I told her, Gina is our
mistery poisoner

and...last night's ridiculous
carry on with that blond hardo,

making herself look like that
murderess, to upset mummy

was nothing less than...
a public confession.

I admit I'm at a loss to know

how Gina came to learn
of all this, but uh ...

perhaps someone put the
newspaper there for her to discover.

That's impossible.

No-one knew. Not even Lewis.

Only myself and Mildred.

Mildred?

How could you? She's your sister!

You always said...
we should share.

Well, she won't.

She won't share.

She never did.

Not you.

Not anybody.

Oh, my...
my poor darling Gina.

Do you think she blames me?

D'you think last night
she was trying to hurt me

for keeping it from her
all these years?

Or hurt herself.

I must go to her, speak to her.

Carrie Louise, perhaps
you should speak to them both.

Together, perhaps you could lay
this particular ghost to rest.

I think I'll finish my tea first.

I think we would all sleep
a lot better in our beds

if there weren't quite so many
secrets in the world.

How much do you know?

- If I was quite sure...
- Oh, I think you're sure.

What do you want me to do?

The only thing you can do.

Just as soon as I finish my tea.

It was Johnny Restarick
that gave me the idea.

To think of this room, not just
a drawing room ...

Oh, a little to the left,
if you wouldn't mind.

Just so. Um ...

Not just a drawing room,
but as a stage set.

There.

An evening of dramatics.

The usual entrances and exits.

And backstage, of course,
outside, on the terrace.

The audience, myself included, sat here,

audient by a conjuring trick.

They do it with mirrors.

- Mirrors?
- Oh, isn't that the common slang?

A few, simple acts of misdirection.

First, the power cut.

You think the lights
were meant to go out.

Oh, I'm quite sure of it.

You recall the power cut
early in the day,

set off by the spotlights that
were being tested before supper.

The fuse box was then primed
to blow a second time

when the circuit of the drawing
room was overloaded.

- Oh, block.
- Wires on the blink.

I'll go and check the fuse box.

The north-american? Wally Hudd?

Oh. Which brings me
to the second misdirection.

Oh. Would you mind?

- The hidden door.
- Yes.

Now, here we deduce,
was the killers second exit.

And, with the lights out, of course,
nobody can be sure of anything,

leaving you, Inspector,
with a far wider cast of suspects.

What if the the door had
nothing to do with the murder?

Hm? What if the killer made a
far simpler escape?

Never underestimate
the power of the obvious, Inspector.

Indeed. So ...

Would you ...

Now,

two men step through
the french windows onto the terrace.

But what do we see?
What do we actually see?

Edgar Lawson, of course,

but what became of
Mr. Serrocold?

We heard him.

- Thank you, Mr Serrocold.
- Edgar!

Nobody move!
That's enough.

Another trick.

Edgar was simply
mimicking the voice of ...

- Lewis Serrocold!
- Mm-hm.

The killer would have
taken no time at all.

No more than your sargeant's
one minute and seven seconds.

But why? I never saw a man
so devoted to his wife.

Quite.

But how do we know there really
was a poisoner?

Look at the evidence.

Carrie Louise's arthritis was
a cohincidence, nothing more.

And her tonic,

mixed at eleventh hour with
very few drops of arsenic,

intended not for Carrie Louise,

but for you and your
colleagues to discover.

A few words were
then added to the letter

when Mr. Serrocold
examined his body.

I have reason to believe

she is being slowly and cold
bloodedly.

I first suspected it when...

And the meaning was
quite altered.

So, there never was any plot
to poison Mrs. Serrocold.

No, Inspector.

And I'm sure
Johnny suspected as much.

Hence his rather odd desire

to trim Carrie Louise's fingernails
a few minutes before he died.

A sample of nail-clipping
would soon have proven

there was no arsenic
in her bloostream.

- But how could he possibly...
- There, in the garden,

on his way up to the house,

he had a glimpse of the
backstage, as it were.

Even through the fog.
Gunshots. And footsteps.

And when Johnny befriended
Ernest at the facility,

I'm sure began to
piece together

the hidding story behind
the poisoning hoax.

As for all those treats
in Ernest's room,

the single malt whiskey,
the keys, the oysters...

... They weren't stolen.

They were gifts
from Lewis Serrocold.

Grateful tokens to a man
whose rare talent for fraud and

embezzlement had helped restore
the fallen fortune of theTrust

But why?

An upstanding gentleman like that.

"The things we do for love."

Wasn't it like that, the way
you put it, Mr Serrocold?

Quite right.

Jane.

Christian Gulbrandsen had
discovered your slide into

financial corruption
and sort to expose it.

Only his afection for
Carrie Louise gave him pause.

Was her heart strong, you see.

You must have known,

he was onto you, the last time
Christian came to Stonygates.

When the Trustees
convened, seven weeks ago,

that's when you conceived
your plan, wasn't it?

First, the fire,

started not by faulty wiring,

but by your accomplice,
Whitstable Ernest.

Concealed behind the hidden door.

Only he left a few tale trail
drops of petroleum.

The smell we talked of diesel
on the floor boards.

The real target of those flames

wasn't your wife's photographs
or even her will,

it was the accounts records
housed in the filing cabinet.

That bought you some time,

but you knew Christian
couldn't be put off forever.

And so you were ready to silence him
when he next came up to Stonygates

The reform facility
ate up all we had.

The buildings.
The endless priviledges.

It was the only way ...

I poured everything in it.

The Trust.

My own fortune.

It was the last resort.

You see that, don't you?

It was the only way I knew
to make you happy.

If you found out...

You didn't have to prove
yourself to me.

With Johnny Restarick
waiting in the wings?

- Johnny?
- I saw his letters to you.

- The man was unstoppable.
- No!

You are my husband.

You knew a little, didn't you?

I wondered.
When Johnny ...

His new friendship had
to be scotched,

before Whitstable Ernest
let something slip.

The arsenic in the oysters kept Ernest
out of the harm's way.

And Johnny?

A spontaneous killing,
I would wager,

while he was under that
lightening operators ...

.. waiting for a word with
the leading man.

But were on stage all the time.

If it wasn't you ...

Edgar Lawson!

Father?

- Edgar!
- Sargeant!

- Edgar!
- Son!

Edgar!

Come on! quick!

Hurry up, lads!

Quick!

Keep looking!

- Did you know?
- I wondered.

Lewis was always quick to end

any iddle talk about
Edgar's true provenance.

And then there was Edgar himself.

His madness... seemed
unconvinced somehow,

the quest for a missing father.
I. .. I'm so sorry.

Oh, Lewis. Why didn't he
just tell me?

Perhaps too scared
you wouldn't approve.

What, with my check at history?

Well, at least he died trying
to save his own son.

I try to take some comfort in that.

And maybe that means
he was a good man, after all?

Like being bulleted,
back in the war.

- Be careful with that.
- I wouldn't do that if I were you.

- It's part of a hidden door.
- Here, let me show you.

Oh, help me, darling.
- Of course.

So clever.

Come on, Jane.
We're late enough already.

The flight leaves at four,

and, apparently,
the pilot refuses to wait.

Of course.

Are you sure
you won't change your mind?

Manhattan is fabulous
at this time of the year.

Quite sure, thank you, Ruth.

Damn british wiring.

One minute.

Damn!

Wally!

Where've you been?

What're you doing here?

You're wrong.

I looked it up.

They're red-wood, not Wellingtonia.

The bur's too tough.

See?

- See?
- Wally! Don't!

Stop!

Wally.

Now you've got me startled.

- Wally, I...
- No.

It's all settled.

Then unsettle it.

What?
Why do you always do that?

- I'm sorry.
- Laughing when I'm trying to say something.

I...

I just can't believe
you still want me.

Don't you get it?

There was never...
not a single moment that I...

When you what?

Come here.

Mil! Sweetie!

- You look just the ticket.
- Do I?

Fancy a spin?

Thank you, but no.
I don't think so.

Not anymore.

Mil! Mil!

My dear aunt Jane,

I wanted you to know
that we seem to be prospering,

after a fashion,
here in Wyoming.

Decided to be an american gal,
after all.

They say that here, it's not where
you come from that accounts,

it's what you make,
with the life you were given.

After all this past,
after all that's gone before,

Is it too much to dream
that such a thing is possible?

All our love, Gina