All language subtitles for he. eratthe 1986

Is this an accusation,
Mrs. Price-Ridley?

Of course it's an accusation, Vicar.

- Against whom?
- How on Earth am I to know that?

I'm simply pointing to the facts,
you may interpret them as you please,

but facts are facts.

And you, Colonel?

I asked Colonel Protheroe,
and he very kindly came.

I wanted there to be
no misunderstandings.

I remember it quite clearly.

Yesterday was the anniversary of
my poor dear Harvey's death,

and I always put a pound in
the collection on Harvey's day.

- Yes, but, Mrs. Price-Ridley...
- No but about it, Vicar, it was there.

A pound note.

Where it was not, however,
was on the collection list.

The highest denomination there
was a ten shilling note.

Oh, well, none of us
as young as we were,

we must pay the penalty of advancing
years, wouldn't you say, Colonel?

Must I say it again? It was there.

You may be suffering
from senile dementia, Vicar,

despite the extreme youth of your wife,

but I am in full possession
of my senses, thank you.

I'll look into it, Vicar.
I'll have the answer for you.

It's quite clear something's amiss.

I suggest I go through
the church accounts for you.

- Do you?
- No need to burst a vessel, Vicar.

If there are defalcations,
it's best that

they're torn out root and branch,
you know.

Root and branch.

Anyway, I am the treasurer.

I'll pop round and get the books
from your curate tomorrow evening.

If he isn't too busy
with his Hail Mary's

and burning incense, that is.

The books are at the Vicarage.

Any case, I hardly see that this
warrants a full scale...

So be it. Till tomorrow evening, then.
At the Vicarage.

I should watch that
curate of yours, Vicar.

It isn't healthy,
all that Jesuitical claptrap.

I should send him to Dublin,
or Rome if I were you.

He can only do damage
in a place like this.

All right, darling?

The blighters need a rocket
up the backside.

Thank you.

What time does the vicar want lunch?

Oh! Yes, well remembered.

He'll be a bit late today.

Uh, yes, that's right.
He said he'd be a bit late.

So, um... We'd better have it...
Have it... A bit late.

Bloody Protheroe.
I mean really. Bloody man...

Oh, dear.

Now, don't you go starting something
with Colonel bloody Protheroe.

He'll do you again.

And Constable Palk will have you up
before that bench soon as open his eyes.

He's no friend of yours.

So don't you start messing
with Protheroe, do you hear?

I don't want you locked up again.
So don't you start.

Hadn't you better take that through?

It's a pity I'm such
a shocking housekeeper.

Mary's clearly ignoring me,
and we are to have no greens.

Greens.

Oh, Fortinbras, look at these.

Oh, I think things
get worse when I try.

It's really much better
to leave Mary alone, and...

Make up my mind to be uncomfortable
and have revolting things to eat.

Oh, poor Len. I know I'm everything
you most disapprove of.

You are.

I am more and more convinced that
celibacy is desirable for the clergy.

And yet you adore me
madly, passionately.

Beyond all reason, utterly and
extravagantly, don't you, darling?

Of course.

- I am very fond of you, my dear.

I see that little rat of a poacher
has been let out of clink.

Bill Archer, back in circulation.

Expect trouble.

ANN: I thought I might go back
into the village this afternoon.

If that's all right, darling.

COLONEL PROTHEROE: Hmm.

Lawrence Redding's been pestering me
for more time on the portrait.

I've been putting him off.

But I really ought to give him a
couple of sessions this week.

As long as the young sewer
doesn't come up here,

do what you like.

What's happened?

Ask her.

Pig!

Oh, Lord.

You realize that's going to cost me
hours of morale building, don't you?

- What's been going on, Lucius?
- Behaving like a tart.

Can you be a little more specific?

That young sewer, Redding,

has been painting her with
practically nothing on, that's all.

Oh, really. I'm not surprised.
She's very beautiful.

Why on Earth not?

For a man who's supposed to have
seen the world,

you really are extraordinarily
childish sometimes.

At least I'll nail that bloody little
papist curate.

See you later, Griselda dear.

Oh, yes, yes... Yes. Thanks.

Darling. This afternoon.
Are you coming?

- I'm sorry, my dear?
- It's Tuesday.

Had you forgotten too? Tea and scandal.

The Reverend Leonard Clement
and his wife Griselda, at home.

- Four o'clock.
- Oh.

Rock cakes and back stabbing
at the Vicarage.

- I'll do my best.
- Oh, good boy.

If she's got the gall,
the dreaded Price-Ridley will be there.

You can both be frightfully
forgiving to each other.

- Good afternoon, Mrs. Lestrange.
- Good afternoon, Doctor.

Enjoyment is the key to it all.

I know. I know.

Doctor, I wonder if I might
impose upon you?

Of course.

I'm busy you know, Lettice.

It's absurd. Crazy.

I was wearing a swimsuit,
for heaven's sake.

I mean, too Victorian,
forbidding a man the house.

It's a shriek.

Lawrence was practically ill
laughing about it.

Ann was quite decent actually.

I've usually found that a mother
is more broad minded...

- Stepmother, matter of fact.
- Ah, yes, of course.

You don't happen to know, do you,
who it was my mother ran off with?

Nobody's ever told me.

I'm afraid I don't.
It was before you came here.

Oh, yes. I suppose it was.

I don't blame her, you know.

I just wish she'd taken me too,
that's all.

Father can be such a total pig.

The world would be much better off
without him.

You'd be much nicer, I think.

So, Lawrence Redding agreed
to paint the wretched girl.

But he painted her
in her bathing costume.

Which, as we all know,
is simply nudity by another name.

GRISELDA: I should give up on that
rock cake, Miss Wetherby.

Mary is a little literal in her cooking.

I think you know,
perhaps I will, Mrs. Clement.

Cod in white sauce is so filling.

What's the name of that rather smart
looking woman who's taken Little Gates?

- Mrs. Lestrange.
- Oh, of course.

Why?

I just wondered whether
she were unwell at all.

She looks perfectly all right to me.

Only I've seen Dr. Haydock coming out
of Little Gates, oh, quite often.

I just wondered.

Well, he is a neighborly man, of course,
and he is a neighbor.

Was he carrying a medical bag?

I... Oh, dear.

I thought perhaps, you see,
they might be old acquaintances.

Well, he's keeping very quiet about it,
if it is so.

As a matter of fact, I happen to know.

It's a terrible story.

Her husband was a missionary.

He was eaten.

Actually eaten.

And she was forced to become
the chief's 15th wife.

Dr. Haydock was with the
expedition which rescued her.

- Really, my dear, really.

Good afternoon, ladies.

MISS MARPLE: Oh, how nice.
- Do forgive my not joining you.

I seemed to have been behind
with everything this week.

Darling, don't forget the studio again.

Ah, of course.

Since I let Mr. Redding have the
old summer house as a studio,

on Tuesdays I've become
a diocesan rent collector as well.

- Excuse me.
- Goodbye, Vicar.

I wonder, by the way,
if there really is anything

between Lawrence Redding
and Lettice Protheroe?

- What do you think, Miss Marple?
- I shouldn't have thought so myself.

Not Lettice.

No.

Quite another person,
I should have thought.

But the Colonel was very cross about
Lawrence Redding painting Lettice.

Yes.

Colonel Protheroe has always struck me
as being rather a stupid man.

Damn.

You saw us, didn't you?

We love each other.

I suppose, to you,
that seems very wrong.

Do you expect me to say anything else,
Mrs. Protheroe?

I... No. No, I don't.

I haven't...

I mean...

Things aren't what you
might think they are.

I'm glad of that.

I often wonder why not.
I don't see how any woman

could be anything
but miserable with Lucius.

I wish he'd drink himself to death.

Oh, I know. I know.

I thought I heard...

Lawrence might have...

No. No one.

- My dear Mrs. Protheroe...
- Oh, no, Mr. Clement.

You're very kind,

and I know the sort of thing
you feel you ought to say,

the sort of thing you might like
to say, but it's no good.

I'm beyond all that. I really am.

Thank you.

I'm sorry.

The fact remains that
the principle is exactly the same.

...Evensong!

- Good night, Vicar.
- Night, Major.

Good night. Thank you.

Mrs. Canning. Harvey. Good night.

Oh, Mrs. Lestrange, isn't it?

- Welcome to our little congregation.
- Thank you, Vicar.

Are you here for a season,
or the summer, or...

To everything, there is a season, Vicar.

Quite, and a time. Quite. Proverbs. Yes.

It's a pretty church.

So lucky to have
escaped Victorianization.

The frescos must be very old, are they?

- Oh, yes, 12th century.
- A fortunate survival.

I congratulate you. Good night, Vicar.

Good night, Mrs. Lestrange.

Mr. Redding.

I'd, uh... I'd like your advice.

Bill! Bill!

Some silly devil's buried some sort of
cord beneath the leaves up there.

- Where've you been?
- Near broke my neck.

Where've you been?
The Bull's been closed an hour or more.

- You're soaked through.
- Oh, that bloody swine, Protheroe.

I'll have to disappear for a few days.

You've not been up to
Protheroe's woods, have you?

What's happened?

Christopher, there you are.

We heard from your landlady
that you weren't well.

Yes, I wasn't. Sorry.

- Should you be here?
- Of course.

Chatter, chatter, all night long.
Voices, all night.

Voices?

The Salisburys,
my landlady, in the next room.

I don't know what
they find to talk about.

I see. Bad luck.

Now, you sure you're
all right to take Communion?

Of course.

Of course I am.

Mary!

Would you tell Mrs. Clement
that if she misses this train,

the next one doesn't get
to Paddington till 12:00,

and if anybody wants me,
I shall be taking a class.

I shall be back... Sometime.

What a day!

Vicar!

I'll see you at quarter past six.

- Suit you?
- Yes. Very well. See you then.

Vicar!

Found that little rat Archer trespassing
on my land again, last night.

But he's only just come out of prison.
Are you sure?

Well, of course I'm sure.
I got the sewer once,

now it seems I'll get him again.

You know, he does give his
widowed sister a lot of support.

Oh, do turn off the taps, Vicar.

She should get him to behave himself,
if that's the case.

Two things I don't like
messed up, Vicar,

church ritual, and my pheasants.

Quarter past six, then!

- Hello.
- Hello.

- I've decided to take your advice.
- Really?

It's the only damn thing to do.

As you say, it's bound to get...

I mean, there's bound to be
talk sooner or later,

and if it gets back to Protheroe,
Ann's position'd be...

Yeah...

So, I'm going to cut and run.

My dear boy, I know
what a difficult decision

this must have been for you.

Come in, and tell me
what you intend to do.

Hello. Vicarage.

Very well then, I'll be on my way now.

Oh, Mary, I've got to go out
to Abbot's Farm.

Old Mr. Abbot's in
a bad way apparently.

- Not expected to last.
- Oh, really? I'm sorry to hear that.

So, would you see to
Colonel Protheroe when he arrives?

He'll be here at about quarter past six.

Show him into the study,
he can wait there.

I'll telephone if I'm
going to be very late.

Don't you worry, Vicar, I'll see to him.

I'm afraid the Lord'll have to
wait a mite longer

for the old demon, Vicar.
Someone's been having you on.

Father! Vicar says you be
on your deathbed!

Says what?

Says you be on your deathbed!

I'm not.
I'm on the asparagus bed!

- You've been a bit previous, Vicar!

Come back next week, eh, Vicar.
I might've throttled

- the old nuisance by then!
- Ah! He might a'done!

Did you want to see me?

Colonel Protheroe wants to see me
about some accounts,

- but I shouldn't be long.
- Protheroe?

Oh, you'll see Protheroe, all right.
Oh, my God, you will.

- You all right?
- I must think. I've got to think.

MARY: So you're back at last.
Was it you who rang?

- Is Colonel Protheroe here?
- In the study.

Been here since quarter past six.

- And Mr. Redding's been too?
- Came a few minutes ago.

Said he wanted to see you.

I said Colonel was waiting
to see you.

"Where?" he said. "Study", I said.
So that's where he went to too.

Thank you.

Mary!

- Dr. Haydock.
- This is the Vicarage, Doctor.

There's been a terrible accident
and Vicar says to come straight over.

Certainly.

Oh, Miss Marple.

There's been the most hideous accident

in here, you see.

I'm afraid I can't...

My dear Vicar,
you look quite frightened.

- Vicar. Oh, Miss Marple.
- Dr. Haydock.

- Excuse me.
- Of course, Doctor.

The reason I came, Vicar, was to
give you a message from Griselda

but I realized that you knew
all about it, because I heard you trying

to start the thing, and, uh...

Oh, you look very shocked, Vicar.
Come and sit down.

I'm afraid you'll think me
hopelessly vague.

But I thought I'd better come,
even though she may be

back herself almost, by now.

Yes, well, I'm so sorry.

Yes.

This is a vile business.

I didn't realize that things
had gone so far.

No.

What message, Miss Marple?

Oh, about your car.

- I heard you trying to start it, yes.
- Oh.

Wretched thing.
Just back from Inch's Garage too.

Really?

Oh, how odd.

I have always found Inch most reliable.

Give me the police.

Nice these new Wolseleys, aren't they?

Well, he's been dead nearly an hour.

Not later than 6:30?

I'd place it at 6:25.

Allowing 10 minutes either way.

Oh, yes, well.

Detective Inspector Slack.
Where is it then?

Vicar.

Mr...

Clement, Leonard Clement.

- Dr. Haydock.
- Good evening, Inspector.

Room been messed around much,
do you reckon, Doctor?

Nothing's been touched.

Ah!

Good. Stopped.

At least that gives us
some sort of timing.

Excuse me, Inspector.

Lake, would you mind clearing
the room of extraneous personnel?

- But, Inspector.
- Now, Lake.

Very well.

Good evening, Inspector.

St. Mary Mead.

Of course.

Miss Marple.

- I just happened to be...
- Of course you did.

I'm sure it will be a great relief
to the dear Vicar

to know that someone
so professional, and so energetic

is in charge of the case, Inspector,

as indeed it is to me.

Thank you.

SLACK: Fletcher, Pringle, see what
the boys from forensic are up to.

Get those reports down to the lab.
Come on, look lively!

Thank you!

I first came across
Inspector Slack, of course,

over that dreadful business
at Gossington Hall

when Arthur
and Dolly Bantry lived there.

It's rather like one of these diesel
engines that are now appearing

all over our railways,

most unappealing,

but I'm told efficient.

Well, I suppose we shall
have to learn to live with such things

and such people.

I think there was something you were
trying to tell him, wasn't there, Vicar?

Oh. Yes.

Well, I tried to.

Oh, quite.

It was about the clock on my desk.

It's just that we keep it
about 10 minutes fast, that's all.

It's meant to get me to
my appointments on time.

Then it was actually
12 minutes past.

In other words, before Colonel Protheroe
even arrived at the house.

So it was tampered with.

And another thing.
I'm sure you noticed it, Miss Marple.

That note by the body, the handwriting,
it didn't look consistent to me.

Ah, you noticed it.
Yes, it was a forgery.

Rather a clumsy one I fear.

There's still a lot of people out there.

More than there will be to mourn him,
I daresay.

Let's go upstairs.
It's been such a horrible day.

You're very quiet.
What are you thinking about?

I was considering the sin of anger

and how this cruel event
will change things.

We'll never be free of it, you know.

How do you mean?

I shall never forget
what I saw this evening.

There's that side of it.

And...

It's how we shall always
be thought of.

"Oh, yes, the Clements,
they had a murder

"at their Vicarage, didn't they?"

My dearest old thing,
what's really wrong?

You knew that sort of thing
doesn't matter. What is it?

No.

No, it's something...

Oh...

Between me and my maker.

I'll go and lock up.

Oh, Len, I've told you before.

If we managed to find a girl
who was good,

she would leave us as soon as she
could find somewhere better.

Mary knows nobody else will touch her.

I hardly see the point of having
anyone at all.

The stupid girl, look at that.

I've just been talking
to the baker's boy.

They arrested Mr. Redding.

What? Arrested Lawrence?
There must be some stupid mistake.

No mistake about it. He went there
himself and gave himself up.

Last night, last thing. Went right in,
threw down the pistol on the table.

"I did it," he says. Just like that.

- Pistol? What pistol?
- His pistol. He's always had one.

Leaves it lying around
that studio place.

I don't like dusting the thing,
I can tell you. German it is.

It's true. He is always leaving
it lying around.

His brother brought it back from
Normandy. I still don't believe it.

Tea.

It's quite mad. What possible motive

could Lawrence have for killing
Colonel Protheroe?

Len?

- They'd quarreled.
- Oh, come on. So had you. Len?

Len, what do you know?

DR. HAYDOCK: All right then.

What time did Redding claim
to get to the Vicarage?

6:45, 6:50, about then?

- Won't do.
- What won't?

He's lying. Protheroe would have been
dead nearly half an hour

by the time he got to him.
I've confirmed it now.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

- I mean, there's no leeway?
- Not enough.

You know ballistics say
it was Redding's gun?

Doesn't make any difference.

Damn.

Lake!

I thought it was looking
too good to be true.

I should have known better.

Soon as I saw that nice, little
gray-haired cobra

sliding about
I should've known better.

- Hmm?
- The Marple woman.

Sticks to this sort of business
like chewing gum to the cat.

Where have you been?
Cancel the scale down.

The artistic gentleman in cell five
is lying through his eyeballs.

Get everybody back on the job!

Who are you protecting?

This isn't going to help you,
Mr. Redding.

The charge list is already
as long as your arm.

Obstructing the police,
false information,

failure to report an offense,
unlicensed firearm...

Etcetera.

Oh, it's very tedious stuff.

So tedious I believe
I've forgotten it already.

I could, however, call the duty Sergeant

and ask him to start writing it
all down, couldn't I?

...Who is it?

Oh.

Got you.

Quite the local sport this
confession lark, isn't it?

In the habit of visiting the deceased's
wife from time to time, were we, sir?

Calm down, sir.

I only wanted to know who it was
you were protecting.

If he's still on the premises ask
Haydock to meet us there, would you?

Both the WPC's are out...

Thank you so much, señora,
for your very kind contribution.

Very ecumenical of you.

Oh, thank you.

Mmm. Delicious.

They'll be here in a minute.
I'll explain everything then.

Thank you for coming.

I'll come straight to the point.

I killed my husband.

Yes, madam.

I suppose I've put it a bit bluntly,

but I could never go
into hysterics over anything.

I've hated him for a long time
and yesterday I shot him.

Ann, you know Lawrence has
already confessed to it.

Of course I know. He loves me.
It was impossibly good of him.

How did he know you'd done it, madam?

I told him of course.

What did you shoot your husband with?

With his own gun. He used to keep it
in the dressing room wardrobe.

- What type was it?
- I don't know.

It was some kind of war souvenir.

Italian I suppose.
You push the bullets in

from the bottom of the handle.

If I was to tell you, madam,
that we have already proved

to our satisfaction that Mr. Redding
could not possibly

have committed this crime,
would you still persist

in this rather dubious account
of your activities?

Oh, while I remember it, Lake...

Oh. Oh, Sergeant, Inspector.
What a nice surprise.

Madam...

I wonder... I wonder if I might
impose upon you

for a small contribution to our
Church Restoration Fund?

A ha'penny or two would do.

Such a vigorous
appeal in the early days.

But to tell you the truth, I don't think
Mr. Hawes, the new curate, has helped.

A little too spiritual, if you know
what I mean, for a curate.

Yes... Oh, thank you.

...Yes. Thank you. Very generous.

Now then, have you persuaded
Mrs. Protheroe and Mr. Redding

that they couldn't possibly
have murdered the colonel?

I think it's about time they started
to tell everyone the truth, don't you?

Well, I presume that's why you're here.

- Miss Marple...
- Did you know that Mrs. Lestrange

visited the Colonel on the afternoon
before the murder?

Dr. Haydock drove her up. Now I find
that very interesting, don't you?

I think it would be a good idea,
Miss Marple,

if I dropped round later and
heard the whole story from you.

Oh, I'm sure you're far too busy to
listen to my little ideas, Inspector.

No one can accuse me
of not being thorough.

Indeed.

I suppose it's having an ear
for gossip and a talent

for a bit of blind guesswork really.

What is, Inspector?

Stops your little ideas
being a waste of time.

Well, I don't think I've ever
been complimented

quite like that in my life
before, Inspector.

Don't mention it.

Now would you like a flag?

Thank you, madam.

The elderberry is a little more,

shall we say, forthright, Inspector.

But I'm sure that will suit
your character.

Oh, now let me see, where was I?

In the garden, madam, attending
to your, Betonica grandiflora.

Oh, yes, yes.

You understand that I can see
the comings and goings

at the Vicarage front door
from my little vantage point.

But I only see as it were,
the official visits.

Understood, Miss Marple.

Come on.

We'll see it through.

I'll help you.

I will.

- Oh...
- We're leaving.

Mrs. Protheroe was first
to arrive at 6:15

but that is approximate
you understand.

She was coming down back lane
from the Square.

Good evening, Miss Marple.

Oh, good evening, Mrs. Protheroe.

On her way to meet the Colonel
at the Vicarage I understand.

Well... Perhaps it was that. Anyway...

You know what dresses are these days.

Nothing could have been
hidden under it, you know.

Certainly not a gun.

She went round the side of the Vicarage
towards the study, presumably to see if

the Colonel was there yet and I suppose
he wasn't, because she came back

almost immediately and went
into the old summer house

Mr. Redding uses as a studio.

Excuse me, madam, we've been
taking some statements and...

Yes, Sergeant.

Thank you, madam.

You didn't hear a shot, did you,
by any chance?

No. Not then.
But about 10 minutes later.

It seemed to come
from the woods.

But it didn't sound like the shooting
one hears in the woods.

But of course it might not if it was
echoing back from the woods

and wasn't a shotgun
in the first place.

But it sounded odd.

Yes, Sergeant?

Well, that ties in
with our other statement.

Definite shot, sounded odd,
about 6:30.

The next person to turn up
before the shot, you realize,

was Mr. Redding. I nearly
missed him as a matter of fact

as I was dealing just then with
a very nasty brute of a dandelion.

He came along from the village
just about five minutes

- after Mrs. Protheroe, and...
- Yes, that's right. From the pub, yeah.

- I'm so sorry, madam.
- That's quite all right, Sergeant.

Mr. Redding went straight
to the studio

and then I heard the shot
about 10 minutes later, as I said,

and then, shortly after that,

he and Mrs. Protheroe left the studio
together going towards the Square.

Later Mr. Redding returned and went
round to the front of the Vicarage

at about 6:50.

So you see whoever it was, didn't enter
the Vicarage by any sides visible to me.

Thank you, Miss Marple.

You make a decent witness,
I'll give you that.

Problem is, if Redding
and Mrs. Protheroe are in the clear,

there's no one else
with a real motive.

- Oh. Oh, well, I was...
- What?

Well, I was just thinking of how many
other people might want

the Colonel out of the way.

Oh, I don't say they'd murder him
to get him out of the way,

but I...

Oh, dear me, yes. I'd forgotten him.

I make it five... Possibly six.

- What happened at the inquest?
- Murder by person or persons unknown.

Well, we all knew that, didn't we?

Get out!

I should have given evidence.
Well, I should have been asked.

I have pertinent facts to offer.

Oh...

DR. HAYDOCK: Ladies...

- He's going to see the Lestrange woman.
- Perhaps she's unwell again.

I didn't mean you to get up.

Today I felt frightened
for the first time.

I wish now I'd...

I suppose if one's father's been
murdered, one might not want to...

- What?
- Lettice, that dreadful child,

she wasn't at the inquest, that's all.

Hardly a child, she's old enough
to be a little T-A-R-T.

Like daughter, like mother.
Well, stepmother...

- Tea, Vicar.
- Thank you.

Yes... Now...

Oh, are you sure you won't stay
for tea, Mr. Hawes?

What? No, thank you. No, thank you.

Yes... Oh, dear.

Well...

Are all inquests like that?

I was expecting the whole thing
to be much more detailed.

The police played their cards
very close to their chests,

don't you think, Miss Marple?

Well, such cards as they possess.

Inspector Slack isn't very good
at listening.

No doubt he'll learn.

In a village one can learn
a great deal by listening.

Thank you very much, madam,
thank you.

Just a minute. Wait for it.

Yes.

5:30, Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe
leave Old Hall by car.

Now at approximately the same time,
the vicar receives a hoax phone call

to go to Abbott's Farm.

And his car had been tampered with.

Right so, he's out the Vicarage
by, uh... 5:40, say.

Yes.

And between 6:10 and 6:15,

Colonel Protheroe
arrives at the Vicarage.

He's shown through to the study

and about five minutes later
his wife turns up,

comes via the garden
going towards the study.

On Miss Marple's authority,
without a gun.

Yes.

But almost immediately comes back
and goes across to the studio

and a couple of minutes later,
her lover Redding

turns up and they both
remain in the studio.

And the shot comes 10 minutes later.

Good.

And Miss Marple saw all this
in her garden the whole time.

The police didn't even
mention the clock.

Well, it would only
have confused things.

It had obviously been
tampered with,

so as evidence
it was quite useless.

No, it was their treatment of the
note by the body that surprised me.

The handwriting expert seemed
to know his onions.

Oh, yes, it was obviously a forgery

but we didn't
need an expert to tell us that.

- No, the thing was all wrong anyhow.
- How do you mean?

Well, do you remember what it said?

"Dear Clement, I'm afraid
I can't wait any longer..."

Well, that's nonsense.
He'd only been there a few minutes.

No, it was a forgery
but rather a clumsy one.

I'm afraid we're not dealing with
anyone with any degree of subtlety.

Right.

If we prove that the Protheroe widow

and her fancy boy Redding couldn't
have done it, who does that leave?

Protheroe's daughter, Lettice,

out playing tennis, claims she can't
remember when she left.

Other witnesses prove that

she had time to get there
and do it.

Loathed his guts, stands to inherit.

Then that woman Lestrange
visited Protheroe the day before.

Servants overheard some kind
of shouting match.

Obviously there's a connection,
and she had opportunity.

Haydock...

He had opportunity of course.

But I can't see the motive.

So...

If we are assuming that the Colonel
was shot while I was in my garden,

well, then the murderer
must have come

through the kitchen door, or, well...

What, Miss Marple?

Have already been in the house.

LAKE: Excuse me, sir.
SLACK: What?

- The gun, sir.
- What about it?

Well, it was nicked from
Redding's studio, wasn't it?

Well, the vicar's maid cleans the place

and the Colonel threatened
to chuck that Archer bloke

back into chokey for poaching.

He was only out on parole and
he had a bad time inside they say.

Well, according to village gossip,
Archer's having a bit of a thing

- with the maid at the Vicarage.
- Is he, by God?

Right.

Now, the vicar left
at when, 5:35?

Good...

- About then.
- What do you mean about?

It's very important to be precise.

Well, I didn't know anyone was coming
to shoot the old swine, did I?

Didn't you?

- And what does that mean?
- We'll come to that in a minute.

No, we won't, we'll come to it now.
What do you mean?

Yes, Inspector, do you have
any specific charge?

I'll manage, thank you, Vicar.
And what do you mean?

You know what I mean.
There is a certain man

with whom you are conducting
a certain relationship.

If you're talking
about Bill Archer you say so.

Yes, I know him
and better than most.

Better than most.

Have you got a note of that, Lake?

You realize that Mrs. Price-Ridley
saw Archer arrive

at the Vicarage the night before
the murder at past midnight.

- The old crow.
- Saw him led into the kitchen.

Didn't see him leave.

- Um...
- He hurt himself, didn't he.

He needed help.

Ah...

He had a bad fall. Tripped over some
sort of cord in the woods there.

- Buried it was in the leaves.
- What woods?

By the Vicarage here.
So he saw a light, so...

- What was he doing in the woods?
- Rabbiting. What do you think?

He wasn't shooting Magistrates anyway.

I gave him a cup of tea, Vicar.

We'd better check it I suppose.
Detail it to Pringle.

Inspector, I believe I have information
quite up to your investigation.

Lake, Fletcher, Pringle...

Now then, madam,
what can we do for you?

There was a man in my shrubbery.
I distinctly heard him sneeze.

Yes, madam...

I've considerably revised
my opinion of Mary.

Really.

The way she stood up to
Inspector Slack was magnificent.

No wonder we're a free country.

This was sent down by Ann Protheroe.

"Dear Vicar, I wonder
if you and Griselda

"would come up and see me
as soon as possible.

"I should be very grateful.

"Something very strange has occurred
and I should like some advice.

"Yours etc."

Well, it's a nice evening.

Let's cycle up.

Good evening, Vicar.

- Oh. There she goes. Tail up.
- Nose down.

- Oh, good afternoon, Lettice.
- Oh...

- Going out, Mr. Hawes?
- I won't be long, Mrs. Salisbury.

- So you'll want your tea then?
- Oh, yes, please.

I'm just popping round to Dr. Haydock's.

- Oh, sorry...
- Hello.

How are you?

Oh, well, you know.

Quite.

Well, there's nothing wrong there.

Yes, but, Doctor...

There's nothing to worry about,
Mr. Hawes.

Now tell me how exactly does your
difficulty in sleeping manifest itself.

Well, it's not really me, Doctor.

It's my landlady and her friend.
They... They talk.

I can hear them through the wall.
I hear snatches of what they're

actually saying
but whenever I hear my name

and try to listen, they whisper,
and I can't hear a thing.

And this goes on at night?

Yes. Only at night.

It usually starts as soon as
I try to go to sleep.

Hmm...

I'm going to prescribe you
some powders,

- which are a bit of a relaxant.
- Right.

They'll help you to feel drowsy.

And I want you to come back
at the end of next week

- whether they work or not.
- Right.

There we are.

So something was nailed up
between those trees,

a rope let's say.

But why?

Suppose these poachers
are like natives in the jungle,

they always follow the same trails
through the woods.

But why should anyone...

No, it's just another ruddy mystery
to chalk up.

What did that Price-Ridley woman
have to say for herself?

Well, she says the Colonel has as
good as accused Hawes of petty theft.

She reckons something like it herself.
Money's missing from the church fund.

Oh, yes, and she thinks she heard
the murderer in the shrubbery.

Reckons she heard him sneeze.

So all we've got to do is find someone
with a snotty handkerchief.

I was out in the garden replenishing
my bird tray when I heard him.

Well, I thought, "That's someone who has
no business being where they are."

So I crept indoors and I went
upstairs into my bedroom...

You see...
I can see into the shrubbery from there

but when I got there
he had disappeared.

Well, I think it was Archer.

What do you think, Jane?

Miss Marple.

ANN: I brought it down here because...

Well, I don't know why. I wonder if
you'd mind taking it away for me.

Of course not. It's horrible.

I suppose it shouldn't be destroyed.

You see, in case it's connected
in some way.

GRISELDA: I'll come up
and fetch it tomorrow.

I don't even know who it's of.

It's such an unpleasant incident.

I'm sure it isn't a portrait
of anyone I know.

Why should it affect me?

On top of everything else.

I know. I know.

It's like an attack on someone.

A desecration of...

Makes the place
even more difficult to...

Oh, Wame and his wife
are very sweet but...

Why don't you come and stay with us?

May I?

Perhaps after Lawrence has gone.

I've sent him away, you know.

He'll be gone as soon
as he's sorted out the studio.

It would have been
impossible here if he'd stayed.

The talk is positively blasphemous.

That all seems to be part of it
somehow, but I don't know how.

There's poison in the very
atmosphere of this place.

It seems to work
its way in everywhere.

Everywhere...

I've got to go.
It wouldn't be fair to Ann.

She's going to hang on.

Just a sign of the times
in this wretched place.

To show she's not ashamed.

Then we'll get married.

I wish to God it hadn't
had to be like this.

But Ann's independent now and she can
spit on this village and all its works.

You and I can sympathize
with that attitude.

I sometimes feel very drawn
to a jealous God.

Who the hell
could have done it, Vicar?

I don't know.

Sometimes I feel it was someone who...

No, never mind.

I'll tell you what I think.

I think it was someone
who was crazy.

Protheroe had enemies, sure,
but to kill him...

No, I think someone just
tipped over the edge.

Is there anyone in this place who could
have hated him enough otherwise?

- Good night, Lawrence.

DR. HAYDOCK: Vicar...

Could I have a word?

It's about Hawes.

Hearing voices?

Hawes?

Come to think of it, yes.

I thought you'd be able to tell me.

I call it psychotic but you may say
it's the voice of God.

Anything is possible.

Depends what the voices said.

He hasn't told me.

I must say he strikes me
as a fish out of water.

Over sensitive.

Yes, he's probably
reacting more strongly

to this horrible business
than most of us.

Goodness knows it's affected
the whole place.

I'll get Griselda to have a word
with him tomorrow.

I intimidate him, according to her.

Now...

The day before the murder,

you got Dr. Haydock
to drive you to the Old Hall.

Yes, I did,
to speak to Colonel Protheroe.

Can you indicate to me
the nature of that interview?

No.

I'm afraid I must insist,
Mrs. Lestrange.

No, Inspector.

I will assure you that nothing
which was said at the interview

could possibly have any bearing...

We have statements to the effect

that this interview
got very acrimonious.

Colonel Protheroe
lost his temper certainly.

But then he was prone to that.

I am not, and I didn't.

And you won't tell me
what was discussed.

No.

Mrs. Le-bloody-strange...

I know her game, blackmail.

She was blackmailing Protheroe.

He refused to pay,
threatened to expose her.

Inspector.

Have you been
questioning Mrs. Lestrange?

Trying to.

Could I have a word in confidence?

I had hoped to catch you before
you went in to see her.

This is in the strictest confidence,
you understand...

We have to ask ourselves the question,

did Eugene and Morris
work and die in vain?

Are we to banish beauty like
the common class of the commonwealth?

Among the most evil men
who ever lived, I may add.

The enemies of beauty are
the enemies of God, you know.

I agree.

Oh...

You want to go. I'm sorry.

Thank you for popping round.

No, no. It... It was a pleasure.

Look, are you sure you're all right?

Yes, of course.

Then I'll see you at Matins tomorrow.

I think, I believe

that you are a sophisticated woman

and by that, of course, I don't mean
merely in terms of appearance.

So that I'm sure you'll understand
when I say that my advice would be

that there is no point
in misleading people any longer.

I understand, of course,
it was necessary,

when you first came,
for everyone's sake,

most especially the child's

but now everything's changed, hasn't it?

Especially as you seem
to have told her anyway.

So I think you should let it out
in the open now

before it causes
some dreadful problems.

What are you saying, Miss Marple?

Lettice is your daughter, isn't she?

- Ann.
- What?

Do you love Lawrence?

Yes.

- I'm sorry.
- It's all right.

I just do.

I don't mind.

You're much older than he is,
aren't you?

What?

Would you be desperate
if Lawrence chucked you over?

You did it, didn't you, Ann?

You killed Daddy.

You killed him so that you...

So that you and Lawrence...

I'm not coming in.

I've just come to tell you to keep
your bloody daughter out of my life

and tell her to keep her bloody
stupid ideas to herself.

There's a law called criminal libel
in this country, you know,

and I'm damned if I'm going
to have my name smeared

by a half-witted
little tart like her.

Oh, you poor thing.

Don't worry. Lettice is coming
to stay with me.

Oh, come in!

We've both suffered too much at the
hands of that man not to be friends.

Do sit down.

He's out of the way now.

I can see my daughter and you
can recover yourself.

Why are you...

Why are you being...

I don't understand.

...Because I'm dying.

This will be my last summer.

Here's my doctor,
you can ask him.

It's true.

I'd give anything for it not to be.

The portrait...

It was of you, wasn't it?

Yes. Oh, you must
forgive Lettice for that.

I don't think she meant you
to find it.

She was frightened that a connection
might be made between me and Lucius

and that the police
might become bothersome.

Maybe she thought
I actually killed him.

Wouldn't it be simple if I had?

Well, it's a good house for a Matins.

My text today is taken from Psalm 15.

"Lord, who shall rest on thy holy hill,

"even he that hath used
no deceit in his time

"and hath not slandered his neighbor."

My friends, we are all,
in the meaning of that text, neighbors.

Amongst us are some
who are pure in heart,

who'll hear with sorrow
what I have to say,

urging themselves in imitation
of God's great son

to forgiveness of those whom I address,

amongst whom I include myself.

An act of horrible violence

and cruelty has taken place
amongst us, my neighbors,

and whatever we shall discover
the reason finally to be,

I believe that this was
no mere accidental occurrence.

The ground was prepared,

the time was ripe for such a deed.

We are almost all of us involved

and those who are involved
are guilty.

And I beg you do not look at it
with mundane eyes,

with the eyes of pity, justification,
everyday excuses.

Look at it with the eyes of eternity.

For one day we shall all be judged

and we shall not be treated like
re-counseled children.

We shall be viewed with the eyes
of that eternal judge

who weighs our actions absolutely.

A fog of anger,

and I need remind no one here that
anger is one of the deadly sins.

A fog of anger surrounded
the murdered man.

A fog which the bright light
of forgiveness may have dispersed.

How many of us can say that
we found in our hearts even

a penny candle of forgiveness
to light our way through that gloom.

Few, I suspect, and I know I did not.

There is one among us who has
a dark journey to make,

one who has broken the mightiest
of all commandments.

Let us all pray that this person
has already started

on his seemingly
impossible journey

towards the light
of our maker's presence,

which alone can
forgive the unforgiveable.

What of the rest of us?

From the depths of my
contrition, I beg you,

join me, journey with me,

offer your supplication with mine.

Call upon our maker
to intercede for our souls

that our sins may not have
stained them forever

and in the light of that
hoped for forgiveness let us forgive

as he shall forgive us

and renounce that which shall
surely damn us if we continue.

In the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Hello. Vicarage.

Hello?

Hello?

Is Mr. Clement...

No, he hasn't come back
from Evensong yet.

- He had to go on to...
- I...

I want to confess.

Hello?

They're doing Tchaikovsky's 1812
on the wireless tonight,

and for the salutive cannon at the end

they are having some real guns
going off in the park

across the road from the Albert Hall.

Wish I had one of those recording
machines like young Redding has.

Miss Marple?

Oh. Cannon you say?

Most interesting, yes.

Vicar, you've...
You've rearranged your room.

Yes.

I thought the memory
of that awful evening

might perhaps be dissipated if I...

And your fine Aspidistra,
was that always in this room?

No, that was out there in the lobby.

Oh, yes.

Yes, much better where it is.

Hello. Vicarage. Clement here.
Hello, my dear.

Yes, of course. Right away.

Hawes has attempted
to take his own life.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Salisbury.

The doctor is on his way.

He's very weak.

I'm most surprised.

Mr. Hawes?

Look at this.

It's what Colonel Protheroe was writing
before he was killed.

It accuses Christopher Hawes
of stealing from the church fund.

- Oh, dear, dear, dear.
- That must be it, mustn't it?

That must be the real note,
the other was a forgery.

Oh, yes. This is the last
mortal thing he did.

Hawes was trying
to telephone to confess.

Christopher Hawes a murderer,
it's frightening.

Well, it depends, doesn't it,
on what he wanted to confess to

and if he really did want to confess,

why did he try to kill himself
before doing so?

- If he did.
- Did?

Try to kill himself.

Oh, I'm sorry, my dear,

I'm just trying to get used to
how stupid I've been.

MRS. SALISBURY: They're upstairs.

Oh...

It looks, Doctor,
as if he'd taken an overdose

of those powders
which I see you've given him,

but I beg you to keep
an open mind on that.

I believe, you see, that it was
meant to look like that.

- What do you reckon?
- God knows.

It's possible.

Anything's possible
in this damn business.

The curate could have done it.

The doctor could have done it.

The church cat could have done it
as far as I'm concerned.

There's only one thing
about this business that's certain,

wherever you turn

there's one person
who'll always be there.

Good evening, Inspector.

He took poison.
Whether he meant to or not.

The tranquillizers I prescribed
couldn't have this effect.

They were muscle relaxants, basically,

and their color looked slightly wrong.

I'll get them analyzed.

Anyways, it's touch and go. Excuse me.

Tsk, tsk...

- Miss Marple...
- He didn't intend to, Inspector.

Someone intended him to.

Who?

Well, Mrs. Salisbury
had a glimpse of the person

who visited Mr. Hawes
after dark this evening,

rather surreptitiously she thought.

She is, thank heaven,
an inquisitive body.

Who was it, Miss Marple?

The murderer, of course.

Now may I propose a little stratagem?

Oh. Oh, that's right.

That's who I wanted to speak to.

There's been a most
awful accident, you know.

Poor Mr. Hawes took his life, they say.

Yes, he's dead. Or good as.

Won't ever come out of it.

They reckon he'll be dead
before the night's out.

Oh, they've all gone now,
thank goodness.

Police were here, everything.

I...

I didn't tell them that
I saw you come around earlier.

I thought you wouldn't
want to be mixed up in it,

but as you were a friend
of poor Mr. Hawes,

I thought you'd like to know...

Well, well...

Mr. Redding...

There's a note.

May I see it?

Oh! Oh, thank you, Inspector.
Yes. Oh, dear...

Oh...

But why did poor Ann Protheroe
take her own life?

Do you think she suspected
that Redding had shot Protheroe

and couldn't live with it?

Oh, no.

Oh, no. No. No.

What she couldn't live with was
the fact that she was the murderer.

She killed her husband, you know.

- Ann?
- Oh, yes.

Just as she told us she did.

When of course we weren't meant
to believe it.

Oh, dear me, is that the time?

- I think I really...
- Miss Marple, you mustn't go.

You must tell us what happened.

Where is that wretched girl
with the tea?

Hello. Vicarage.

You'd better get on
with their tea, girl.

No hurry.

You'll be glad to hear that
Christopher Hawes

has regained consciousness
and is out of danger.

Oh...

- Oh, thank goodness for that.
- Oh, yes, indeed. Yes.

Now do sit down, then.

We're not going to let Miss Marple go
to bed until she's explained everything.

Oh. Oh...

Well, you see, I made the most
dreadful mistake

of underestimating
young Mr. Redding.

I thought we were dealing
with someone whose crudity

would eventually expose them.

What I hadn't bargained for was
being made to think it was someone

not very bright when, in fact,
he was extremely subtle.

The double confession...

Pointing the finger too crudely
at the real murderer.

Planting the Colonel's letter
on eccentric Mr. Hawes

and staging his suicide, most clever.

I think we've been
extremely lucky, Inspector.

- You see, what I still don't...
- Oh, you want to know how they did it.

Well, we have to go back to
the morning of the murder.

Mr. Redding waited until
you'd gone out, Vicar.

Griselda was in London.

It wasn't until
you rearranged your room, Vicar,

that I realized where Mr. Redding
must have put his gun.

He'd already immobilized your car,

so the scene was now set.

That evening Mr. Redding telephoned you

pretending to be Mr. Abbot's neighbor
and you were out of the way.

They counted on my being in my garden.

Good evening, Miss Marple.

Oh! Oh, good evening, Mrs. Protheroe.

The dress was selected with great care.

She knew I was a noticing sort of person

but I could tell she hadn't
so much as a handkerchief

in the top of her stockings.

Never mind a gun.

The gun was silenced.

But when it went off
Mrs. Price-Ridley heard it.

She believed she'd heard
someone in her shrubbery,

sneezing, she thought.

So she went upstairs
to get a better view.

Now this was very unfortunate

as she was not there to connect
the sound of the sneeze

with Mrs. Protheroe leaving the study
and crossing to the studio

to await Mr. Redding.

It was a few minutes
before he turned up.

I nearly missed him,
as a matter of fact,

as I was at that moment occupied
in another part of my garden.

I didn't notice that he was
not quite his usual self

but I should have been alerted
by the fact that he waved to me.

He'd never done that before.

He wanted to be noticed, you see.

Mr. Redding had set up
one of the nesting boxes

at the edge of the woods
with a loud speaker inside it,

the wire running back to his
tape recorder inside the studio.

This was the wire that Bill Archer

tripped over
the night before the murder.

At precisely 6:30,

Mr. Redding switched on
the tape recorder

and the final touch to this masterpiece
of confusion was applied.

The shot sounded odd
so it took my attention.

Mr. Redding was relying on the fact
that a gun shot inside a room

which then echoed outside
would sound odd.

I don't think Ann Protheroe ever
recovered from what she'd done.

In Mr. Redding's company
she might have forgotten occasionally

but I think she realized
she'd destroyed her life.

Oh, she had wealth and freedom,
of course.

She'd tried to save Lawrence Redding
till the last.

Well, I must say,
I'm glad she didn't succeed.

That would never do.

Tea.

Oh, and, uh...

Some of your rock cakes.
How thoughtful of you.

Oh, my dear, do you think
you should, in your condition?

I've always suspected you
of keeping a broomstick

under the stairs, Miss Marple,
and now I know.

- Griselda...
- Yes, Len darling?

What... I mean...

Condition?

A little Clement is forecast...

- Oh, I say!
- Yes, but what I still don't see it...

I say!

- What?
- Oh, I say...

What was that?