All language subtitles for Campion (1989-1990) 1 Look to the Lady 2

The story so far...

A gang of international thieves

is planning to steal
the Gyrth Chalice.

However, we now know that the
genuine pre-Norman-Conquest chalice

is in the East tower
of the family home,

and, everybody has been making a great
deal of fuss about a substitute chalice,

made as recently as 1772.

- Albert.
- The question is, do the thieves know

they are pursuing
the wrong chalice? Yes.

I already know all this.

Forgive me.
This is in the nature of a rehearsal.

- A rehearsal for what?
- Strictly speaking, for whom.

I'm rehearsing what I shall
tell Stanislaus.

Who the devil
is Stanislaus?

Inspector Stanislaus Oates.

A senior and highly respected
police officer,

but meeting us tonight, in his
capacity as a civilised human being.

He's also very punctual, so he's probably
here already and onto his second whisky.

Does he have a key?

Oh, I never lock my door.

Is that wise?

If I lock my door,
people can't get in.

- Evening.
- Good evening.

I've come to do you
a bit of good.

But it'll cost you a fiver.

This is a senior police officer?

No, Mr Walker is a criminal,
currently between sentences.

- Who's he?
- No one of importance. Minor aristocrat.

Come on. Let's have the tale.

Make it good and I won't
charge you for the whisky.

Thinks he knows it all,
doesn't he?

He didn't even spot me
on the road, this morning.

Good Lord, that was you
driving the saloon!

I'm admitting nothing.

You were a party to attempted
robbery, on the King's Highway.

I was hired for a bit of
honest chauffeuring.

Driving a party for an outing.

And, for a fiver, you'll reveal the
name of the man who hired you.

- That's right.
- I know who hired you.

Matthew Sanderson,
gangster of this parish.

But, who's Matthew working for?

That's the big one, isn't it?

We are mildly interested.

Mildly interested costs a fiver.

Your dad would've come across
for half a crown.

Don't blame me.
Blame the gold standard.

Now.

- Satisfy our mild interest.
- Right.

We stop your car,
the lads nick the bag.

They take it away
and open it up.

They're looking to find a nice
piece of aristocratic silverware.

What do they find?

Half a dozen bottles
of pale ale.

Sensation in court,
they're not pleased.

Me? I don't care.

I'm getting paid for driving,

and, I like a drop of pale ale.

Sanderson goes potty.

"I shall have to answer to
The Daisy for this," he says.

The Daisy?

- That's what he says.
- I give you five pounds and you give me a daisy?

Your dad would've presented me
with a bouquet.

Could that be Daisy?

Daisy Roots, more like.

Hey, I know the sound
of them feet.

Inspector Oates, may I introduce

Ernie Walker?

Just visited!

Just arrived.

Just going.

You didn't tell me
he was coming.

Move along there, please, sir.

Shut the door on your way out.

And your dad always checked
the watermark!

Do you, by any chance, know of a wealthy,
influential man about the underworld

called "The Daisy"?

Hanged, in Manchester.
September the 27th, 1928.

Murderer. Poisoning,
followed by dismemberment.

I remember the execution.
It was raining.

Hmm. Our man is currently
active. Nowhere near retirement.

Lots of small fry use Daisy
as a nickname.

Not small fry.

He could, conceivably,
be a highly gifted amateur.

What exactly are you up to?

Or, is it a state secret, again?

I'm taking the short road,
as opposed to the long road.

Thank you very much,
that's much clearer.

Or, to express it
in another way,

it is the one occasion in a hundred,
when publicity would be catastrophic.

Official police involvement,
undesirable.

And it falls to the gifted, private
individual, to take responsibility.

And, you are taking
responsibility for... What?

The safety of a great,
national treasure.

Coupled with a spot
of drastic eradication.

This great,
national treasure...

Wouldn't happen to be in
the suitcase, by any chance?

It is just possible.

Supposing Val were to
stay here, with the suitcase,

while I return
to the family seat,

to try to uproot The Daisy,
so to speak.

Well, I'll do whatever
you think best.

This is probably
the safest place in London.

You're sitting on top
of a police station.

I'll put a bobby
on the doorstep,

a plainclothes man on the roof,

and a couple of chaps, in the
house of delights across the street.

We have only five days.
Next Wednesday is my birthday.

I can provide the protection.

I'll leave it to the gifted, private
individual to solve the mystery.

My pleasure.

But, try to be circumspect about
your drastic spots of eradication.

It can be illegal,
in some cases.

Hello, Soft Furnishings.

Good Lord.

Somebody tried
to eradicate Lugg.

He's here.

What happened to Lugg?

Gone off his rocker, sir.

How were you able
to spot the difference?

All I know is, he turned up outside,
on the lawn, in the middle of the night,

howling and gibbering
and raving.

He woke the entire house!

Howling and gibbering
can have that effect.

- Hysteria isn't amusing.
- Well, hardly ever.

Can't you work it out?
You're the great detective.

He went down to
Pharisee's Clearing last night,

and saw whatever it was
that killed Aunt Di.

It's a step
in the right direction.

Albert! Did you tell him to go?

I gently suggested no more than he might
maintain a discreet, nocturnal presence.

I think you should apologise.

Do I really owe you
an apology?

Makes no odds to me.
I've resigned.

- I accept your resignation.
- Accept?

I give you
the best years of my life.

I nearly lost my reason, for you,
and, all you could do is accept.

What do you want me to do?

I want you to spend a night
in that haunted wood

and see what it does
to your reason.

That's
if you carry one in stock.

Which I sometimes doubt.

Just tell me what you saw.

I saw that monster.

The one they keep
in the secret room!

The one they feed with the pump!

That's nonsense.

Tell me what you saw.

It was ten foot high, it had
horns and smelled putrid, like...

Dead fish!

It was like a ten-foot high
goat, walking on its hind legs.

That's better.

- Now I believe you.
- You do?

Not only that, I will not
accept your resignation!

And, if anyone asks,
you've had a bilious attack.

Heart attack!

I got my pride, you know!

Why are we going to see
the professor?

Because, there's
something very strange

going on in Pharisee's Clearing,

that might turn out
to be a clue,

which might, in its turn,
help us to identify The Daisy.

But, why are we going
to see the professor?

Because he is one
of the world's leading authorities

on ten-foot high goats.

This is delightful!
Have you come for lunch?

We need the comfort
of a scientific explanation.

- For what?
- The ghost in Pharisee's Clearing.

I can't offer you
an explanation,

but I can show you
a photograph of it.

I'd heard the stories
of the ghost,

long before your poor aunt
passed over,

and, indeed, took the liberty of
trespassing for several nights,

without seeing anything.

Of course, I had a gun with me,

which sometimes dissuades
the supernatural.

Here.

How did you take this?

While I was home, in bed.

It's a device
a friend of mine uses

for photographing animals
by night.

The animal trips over a string that releases
a flashlight and opens the camera lens.

We still need the comfort
of a scientific explanation.

But, isn't that the whole
point about the supernatural?

There is no
scientific explanation.

Any chance of catching
one of these things?

I'm sure all you need is a large
butterfly net and formidable biceps.

Well, if it turns out to be
what I think it is.

It's much more unpleasant
than any ghost.

The Pecks.

The Pecks!

Splendid idea!

Who or what, is or are
the Pecks?

They work on the estate.

Two of the world's leading
authorities on catching things in nets.

The old man's a wonderful source

of medieval history
and folklore,

though I have to
work through an interpreter.

Are they brushing up
on their madrigals?

Mr Peck?

Percy?

Gentry be here.

How are you, Mr Peck?

The joints be bad, but
I ain't fit for burying yet.

I hear your aunt's
was a quiet one.

Her burying, I mean.

Yes, very quiet.

It was poison to some of us.

But, I won't speak ill
of the dead.

- Hello, Miss.
- Good morning, Percy.

Percy, I want you to take Mr
Campion and Professor Cairey

down to Pharisee's Clearing,
tonight.

They think there's an animal
that wants snaring.

Do you understand?

What are you thinking of,
trapping it or shooting it?

Er, trapping it, certainly.

You say it'd be a big animal?

Er... A big animal, yes.

Job for a stack net?

It won't
catch nothing!

That's a spirit!

Not the net.

That'll go right through it.

Like that was water...

What do you think
about it, Percy?

I fixed up that wireless,
so the old one can hear

fellows in Paris playing music.

If I can rule that,

I can rule any old ghost.

I thought here, sir.

I'll sit up there with the net.

And, when the thing
comes beneath,

I drop the net over it.

Excellent.

I'm a simple
metropolitan person.

So, you'll have to explain
how you can be sure that

the thing comes under the tree.

The old ones says that
it chases people, sir.

I thought you and the
professor could sort of...

Lead that under I.

Lead that under I.

First class.

Let me have men about me that are Percy.

Penny, come here, girl.

Caught in a snare,
and still warm.

Somebody about,
don't fear no ghosts.

I'm off up here.

I suggest you work around the
right side and I'll go down the left.

Constructive and symmetrical.
An ideal combination.

If there are two ghosts,
I'll meet you under the tree.

♪ Today I feel so happy

♪ So happy, so happy

♪ I don't know why I'm happy

♪ I only know I am ♪

You know
what we got here.

Apart from the stink?

A witch.

Mrs Munsey.

Ancient witch, frightened to
death by gentlemen detectives.

- Still alive.
- We need some way of carrying her.

Wooden hurdles. Same as
we used for Lady Pethwick

We're in practice, see.

I suspected it
from the beginning.

It's classical in its purity.

The goat horns and
the curious chanting.

There hasn't been a case
like it for fifty years.

Modern civilisation gallops
ahead all over the world,

and then you discover a patch
that hasn't altered for three centuries.

The woman's
a lunatic, of course.

But there's no doubt
that she's descended

from a regular line
of practising witches.

Nothing to worry about.

Your mother fainted in the wood.

I ain't done nothing.

That's what he's been doing.

I ain't done nothing!

Did your mother frighten people
away so you could poach in the wood?

Oh, you leave him be!

Why should we leave him be,
Mrs Munsey?

He ain't right!

He don't know how to
take care of himself.

He couldn't catch nothing
if I didn't scare them.

And why did you frighten
Lady Pethwick?

I never!

Was it Sammy?

Curse you!

I curse by a right line,
a crooked line.

A simple and a broken.

By flame, by wind, by water.

By a mass, by rain, by clay.

By a flying thing,
by a creeping thing.

By a serpent, by an eye.

By a hand, by a foot,
by a crown, by a cross!

By a sword, by a scourge,

I curse you!

You frightened Lady Pethwick
to death.

When you saw what you'd done, you
folded her hands and closed her eyes.

Why did you do it?

She always hid
from the gentry.

She only chased country folk.

It was Daisy, what told her
about her ladyship...

Never
you listen to him.

He don't know nothing.

- Who's Daisy?
- Daisy didn't mean for her to die.

Daisy said for to frighten her,

so she'd take to her bed
for a day or two.

Who is Daisy?

You can't never blame Daisy!

I ain't done nothing!

Who is Daisy?

Pardon me sir,
but I know who they mean.

Mrs Daisy. Mrs Daisy Shannon,
as keeps the race horses.

Mrs Shannon,
as keeps the racehorses.

Breakfast.

Breakfast.

I have to feed you, keep
you alive. It's in my contract.

- Now, get a move on with it.
- What time is it?

- Almost 4:00 in the afternoon.
- Good Lord.

Now do you believe me
about ghost hunting, eh?

It takes it out of you.

I can reliably inform you, your
ten foot high goat was, in fact,

an old, bald-headed woman.

Think I'd rather have the goat.

Hurry up with your breakfast, you've
got to telephone Inspector Oates.

- Why?
- Because he wants to talk to you, that's why.

Left a message with me.

Secret code, of course.

On account he has
no faith in my integrity.

- Which, bearing in mind...
- Just give me the message.

Two o'clock this morning there was
some sort of a gang fight in Bottle Street.

Fifteen a side, like one
of your rugger matches.

In the course of which some
bobby keeping guard on your flat,

- got bonked on his helmet.
- Take it.

Whereupon a raid
took place on your flat.

And several footpads and
ne'er-do-wells took off

with whoever it was,
as was dossing there.

And, whatever it was he was
supposed to be looking after

while he was dossing there.

What about your breakfast?

Natty Johnson, Fingers Hawkins,
and Ernie Walker for lunch.

I'll see you very soon.

You get us mixed up with
a nice set, don't you?

Those are brown bottle and
razor men you're talking about.

Bath, nap, car, in that order.

- Breakfast.
- Breakfast in the bathroom.

Too late, I ate it.

All right if I come in here,
Miss?

Of course, why shouldn't it be?

It's a bit off-limits
for a humble servant.

Don't be silly.

But his nibs says I have to
have a dicky-bird

in your shell-like.

Well, why don't you say
what you have to say

and, I'll tell you whether
I understand any of it.

Fair dues.

- Tell me what's happened.
- Well see, there's

been a bit of a shemozzle
on his manor

and he's having to go
and sort it out.

- If he's not back by tomorrow...
- Shemozzle on his manor

Seemingly.

Mr Lugg, the last thing
I knew, my brother Val

was staying in Mr Campion's
flat looking after the silver chalice.

That's right.

Is he still there? Is he safe?

I'm not in a position to divulge any
details pertaining to the shemozzle.

Even supposing I knew any,
which of course, I do not.

Thank you very much, Mr Lugg.

All we can do is carry out his
orders and hope for the best.

I see, he left some orders.

Oh, it's always best, that.

Officer class, see.

If he's not back by tomorrow, we have to
take the beard of the prophet to Mrs Sarah.

- The beard of the prophet?
- To Mrs Sarah.

Who is Mrs Sarah?

She's the mother superior
of a gang of gypos.

Gypsies?

- If you like.
- And what is the beard of the prophet?

See here.

- May I look?
- He said it is especially designed

according to an ancient
gypsy recipe

whereby it don't open.

It all seems
like total nonsense.

You know him, when's it
ever seem like anything else?

And if it means having to go and see
a gang of gypos, well, that's hard luck.

Don't you like gypsies?

With him, it's either
knobs or nobodies.

And, I loathe the sight of
the whole lot of them.

Begging your pardon, Miss,
present company excepted.

Do you like anybody?

Present company excepted.

I wouldn't rule it as
a possibility.

But I'd be hard put to
name any names.

Some racing stables over there.

Yes, it is where
Mrs Dick Shannon trains.

Mrs Shannon?

Is that the party as come snooping
the day after your aunt died?

Voice like a foghorn,
and nippy with it?

That's the one.

I hate women.

Especially in business.

Look at them.

You wouldn't catch me spending
my life, living like this.

We've come to see a party.
Name of Mrs Sarah.

Got a message for her.

Private and confidential.

Come here.

Who sent you, lady?

Orlando.

That's right. Orlando.

Don't worry, lady, Sarah knows.

Tomorrow. We shall be ready.

Goodbye, lady.

- Orlando?
- One of his names.

Come on, the court is adjourned.

You've got a lucky face,
my dear.

You'll get a fine husband.

But you won't get Orlando.

His nibs calls himself Orlando
when he goes off with the gypos.

- Doesn't he take you with him?
- No chance.

Leaves me at home to mind the
jackdaw. That's the sort of man he is.

- And I'm not going to marry him.
- Yes, you've done well there.

Unless you like jackdaws.

I've never given it
much thought.

Will you drive the car back to
the tower? I'll walk home later.

Always carry out orders
with a cheerful smile.

- Where's your intrepid friend this morning?
- You mean Orlando?

No, I mean Mr Campion.

He went off in a hurry
last evening.

- Really?
- Leaving us with the most extraordinary errand.

- Us?
- I've been with Lugg to see

a sort of Gypsy Queen
on the heath.

My mother said I should never
play with the gypsies on the heath.

And she said something
about tomorrow.

As if Albert had made
a date or something.

A strange and mysterious man.

And I shall never marry him.

Really?

What's wrong?

Val!

Val!

I was at Campion's flat.
I sat up late reading,

with the chalice in the
suitcase, actually on my lap.

About 2:00 in the morning,
I heard a fiendish commotion.

There was a street fight
going on outside.

I was watching from
the window when...

Somebody must have
knocked me out.

- What happened next?
- A parcel.

I came to,

only a couple of minutes later,

saw the chalice had gone
and went out into the street.

I thought I recognised
one of the men.

I followed him into some sort of

dive in Soho, an eating place,
and into the back room.

Then I got a towel full of

ether or chloroform in my face.

- Ah, I can remember bits of things after that.
- Now, take your time.

And then I woke up
under the hedge.

Which seems to indicate
they've finished with you.

- That was very strange.
- What?

The postman left us this parcel.

When I looked at it,
it's addressed to you, Val.

Oh, it's my birthday
in two days' time.

It's probably something
hideous from one of our relations.

Yes, but how did the postman
know you were here?

I've stopped wondering
about things like that.

Would you open it for me Penny?

If it's a birthday present, it
shouldn't be opened until Wednesday.

Here.

Val, it's the chalice!

But who sent it?

I could make an educated guess
on that subject,

but how you arrived in that field
is beyond my comprehension.

Your buttonhole...

That's funny, I don't remember
that, either.

I never put flowers
in my buttonhole.

Would I be right in supposing
that's it's a...

Yes, you would be right.

It's called a white Campion.

- What's that?
- Ugh, countryside.

- Full of noises I don't understand.
- No, there's someone there.

Open the door, damn it,
one of you.

I don't believe it.

I can't be responsible
for other peoples beliefs.

- Is he on his own?
- I'll check.

What do you want, Campion?

A good tip for
the Ascot Gold Cup.

Don't underestimate him. He
isn't as dumb as he pretends.

Nobody could be that dumb.

There's nobody with him.

This is a very
interesting place.

All those empty stables,
only one horse.

Is that why you're
playing cards, Mrs Shannon?

Hoping to win enough money
to pay your debts.

Throw him out, somebody.

No, I think we should keep
him here.

- I'd feel safer.
- Do you like card tricks?

Or shall I tell your fortune, Mrs
Shannon? You've got a lucky face.

Cut three times towards me
and wish.

I see a queen surrounded
by a pack of knaves.

I see them pursuing a crock
of gold or even a pot of gold.

I see a fair young man,

standing between her
and the pot of gold.

I see a silly old woman

and her even sillier son who
might give the game away,

and perhaps they already have.

I see a lot of journeys.

I see a far journey.

Oh yes, most certainly,

you take the long road, Daisy.

Is that all you see?

No. I see a great many
black cards.

I think there's a death
in this for somebody.

Guess who?

Put him in the gate loft
till afterwards.

It's a fair cop.
I'll go quietly, governor.

I'd like a cell with a view,
early morning call, tea,

and a copy of Sporting Life
at, say, 8:30?

Get him out of here.

♪ Never wanted to

♪ Can't help it ♪

♪ Falling in love again ♪

Good evening.

You haven't shaved at all today.

Not much of a credit
to the regiment.

I have to tell you, Mrs
Shannon, that I can't honestly

recommend this place.

The bed creaks, the telephone doesn't
work, room service is non-existent

and the staff
are extremely rude.

Oh yes, and
the people downstairs are very noisy.

- Otherwise it's fine.
- Good!

And now I expect you've come to
tell me, I have to wear an iron mask.

Well, I won't do it,
I tell you, I won't do it.

Why did you come here?

I suppose curiosity.

About what?

You had a perfectly good chalice in
your possession and you weren't satisfied.

I have guaranteed to obtain
and deliver the genuine article.

Or die in the attempt. I think
that's written into your contract too.

One of us has to die, certainly.

Forgive my asking, it's my
natural curiosity and prejudice.

Are you thinking of killing me?

Not thinking, preparing.

This is Suffolk, you know,
they take a dim view of corpses.

They call the police.
They give evidence.

I shall leave it all
to the people downstairs.

The people downstairs?

But...

The people downstairs
appear to be a horse.

Yes. His name is Bitter Aloes.

I had to sell the others.
But not this one.

He killed a stable boy
last year.

He'll kill you.

And don't rely on your Gypsy
friends coming to your rescue.

I turned them off
the heath this morning.

Take me to your stable. I'm
actually rather good with animals.

Stay where you are.

Campion, are you there?

Never has the sight of a
professor been more welcome.

Here.

That's it. Easy now.

Go on boy.

Don't tell me. Let me guess. I was
about to be executed by a horse,

and you just happened
to be passing.

Penny told me about the gypsies,
the chalice turned up in the post,

Val turned up on the hedge
wearing a white flower.

I decided to take a cycle ride
to the heath.

I found your car parked,
not far from here.

The tyres have been slashed
by the way.

You can't trust anyone
nowadays. I blame talking pictures.

So, I wandered down here,
to investigate a little further.

"Good day Mrs Shannon, Is it true
you're planning to murder my old chum

- "Albert Campion?"
- "Good day to you, Mrs Shannon.

"Would you be interested in buying a
few yearlings from bonny Scotland?"

"No, not buying at the moment?

"Well, in that case, may I have
a wee look around your stables?

"Don't let me drag you away from urgent
business. I'll see myself off the premises."

I hid in a loose box
for a couple of hours.

Then I heard her
interviewing you.

- Did she do that?
- Making a point in the cut and thrust of debate.

What next?

- Muggy Mathews...
- Come again?

Muggy Mathews, one of the best
cat burglars in the business.

He can climb up a sheer face
of running water.

That's how they're gonna steal
the chalice. The real chalice.

- Lower a rope from the roof.
- Eight o'clock.

- Is that significant?
- Watch.

Campion, I do believe this is
the dirtiest fighting I've ever seen.

There are historical reasons
for it.

In the red corner, gypsies, in
the blue corner, race gangs.

They have a long history
of ideological disputes.

Your people seem to be doing
rather well. Will they get away with it?

They never kill. They're more
for modified disabling.

Looked at objectively,
it's difficult to see, how Mrs Shannon

can raise a posse to steal
the chalice on this occasion.

I'm inclined to agree.

- I think the boys are finished.
- We're deeply indebted.

- Pleasure.
- What happened to the woman?

The Donna? Went off in her
little green motor.

Aiming to make the Mexican
border before nightfall, I expect.

She took the rope with her.

- The rope?
- Is she going somewhere?

Yes. The tower.

- I'll have to go after her.
- We can take you in the bus.

You boys should scarper quick.
I'll see you at Hull Fair.

- Uh, Campion?
- What is it?

- Orlando?
- Yes?

We provide transport.

Jacob, I deeply appreciate
your concern, but...

That horse kills people.

- Joey fixed it.
- Your job, being a hero.

His job, fighting with people.
My job, fixing horses.

I've fixed hundreds of horses.

Fix them win, fix them lose,
fix them each way.

You fix him not to kill me.

He'll not kill no one
for two hours. Promise.

Come back, Mrs Shannon.

- Come back before it's too late.
- Go to Hell!

Come back before you look into
that room or I swear, I'll cut this rope.

- You wouldn't dare. You haven't the courage.
- Come back.

For God's sake, come back.

Sorry. Too busy.

No... You can't be...

Hold on.

No, I'm sorry.

- No.
- Hold on. Hold on...

Did you know about Mrs
Shannon from the beginning?

I thought
she might be in it.

She was head over heels in debt,

and about to lose
her jockey club licence.

She desperately needed
a big winner.

As big as the chalice.

And what were all those
bohemians about?

They hoped to learn enough
about the chalice to make a copy

and persuade Val
to organise the exchange.

When I was down on my luck.

Which no longer applies.

Which no longer applies.

I think true love must be considered an
acceptable by-product of the assignment.

Assignment?

Yes.

I may give the impression of
being a gilded amateur,

a gentleman
rather than a player,

but I've passed among you
as a vulgar professional.

At the appropriate time,
and with great discretion,

money will change hands.

Guineas, of course.

But who employed you?

Sorry, ma'am.
Not at liberty to say.

Could this be a clue?

Here. See who's come? Orders
are for you to report to the library,

5:00 sharp.

And wear something decent, eh?
Show a bit of respect.

Have you ever considered
showing respect?

Considered it.

But I reckon showing respect
weren't invented for the likes of me.

And the said representative of
her gracious majesty or her heirs,

shall go up into the chamber accompanied
by the master and his eldest son,

providing he be
of sufficient age,

and they shall show him
and prove to his satisfaction

that the treasure that they
hold in the stead of the crown

be whole and free from blemish.

Further, we also command
that in times of trouble,

or such days as the house
of Gyrth may be in danger,

the master shall allow two
witnesses to go with them,

strong men and true, sworn to keep
faith and all secrecy as to the treasure,

and the manner of its keeping.

Given under our hand and seal,
this day, and so on.

I think that covers
the matter, Colonel.

Of course, I understand,
my dear Campion,

that strictly speaking,
the days of danger are passed.

But I think we might permit a small
deviation in the somewhat archaic formula.

And it seems to me
the only courtesy, Professor,

that we can extend to you for your courageous
assistance in this distressing affair.

I can think of
no greater hon our.

...His twenty-fifth birthday.

Now, there is another tradition
to which we must adhere.

The entrance to the chamber is
a closely guarded secret

known only to my predecessors
and the Colonel's,

and soon, of course, to his son.

I feel sure I shall offend neither of
you if I ask you to wear one of these.

Remove the blindfolds.

What a lovely, lovely thing.

I see it now, just beautiful.

I couldn't understand why I wasn't told
at the beginning about the second chalice.

My boss is a man of
very conservative ideas,

and having taken an oath of
secrecy, he couldn't break it.

He had to let me find out
for myself.

I'm sorry, Campion,
I wasn't paying attention.

It doesn't matter.

I was entertaining an
unworthy thought, the chalice...

Oh, what a piece of work.

Has cost heaven knows how
many lives over the centuries.

And, you know,
I think it's worth it.

But what did she see? And
why did she say those things?

"No you can't be."

The light was shining directly on
the figure, the head was upraised.

"No, you can't be" alive?

And let me offer the thought
that on the night, the visor was up.

She saw the face.

It may be a very shocking sight.

But did she hear a voice?

We all hear voices
from time to time.

There are more things
in heaven and earth, Orlando.

THEME MUSIC PLAYING...