All language subtitles for Agatha Christies Poirot (1989) - S05E05 - The Adventure of the Italian Nobleman (1080p BluRay x265 afm72)_Subtitles03_PGS-eng

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[mysterious jazz music]

♪♪

[conversing in Italian]

- What do you think, Poirot?

- I think it looks very untidy,
Hastings.

- But it's not meant to be tidy.

Tidy's got nothing
to do with it.

It's compact, though—
You have to admit that.

They're using twin overhead
camshafts, you see,

with desmodromic valve gear

and a hemispherical
combustion chamber.

- I see.

- Ah!
Mr. Vizzini.

- How are you today?

- Oh, pretty well, you know.

This is Monsieur Hercule Poirot.

- Hello.

Great detective.

I must watch my step, eh?

It's a pleasure to meet you,
Signor Poirot.

- Delighted, Monsieur Vizzini.

- Well, Signor Hastings,
you place the order today?

- Well...
- Oh, Signor Hastings.

- It's a big decision.

- Seven weeks, Signor Hastings.

The factory of Eliso-Freccia
in Milan,

they stand wait.

Will the order
of Capitano Hastings come today?

- Well, I've been thinking—

- Mr. Vizzini, excuse me.

You'll be late for your lunch
with Mr. Andreotti.

- I thank you, Margherita.

Gentlemen, I will leave you
in the capable hands

of Signorina Fabbri.

Mi scusi.

- I was just going to say
to Mr. Vizzini,

with this new trailing link
front suspension,

I wonder if you don't need
some sort of stabilizer.

You see—
- No.

- No.
No?

- The radius roll trailing
from the cross member

locates each hub fore and aft.

- Yes, well, I appreciate that—

- And each unit's damped by
the inclined telescopic struts.

- Right.

Yes.

- You will have to make up
your mind, Hastings.

- Yeah, well, I'm going to.

Tomorrow's the last day.

I've got it marked in my diary.

It says, "Decide about car."

I say, Poirot...

- What is it, Hastings?

- Miss Lemon's not here.

- No?

- It's 2:20.

[door shuts]

- Here she is now.

- Hastings, please.
I'm trying to read this letter.

- But—
- Mr. Poirot, I'm so sorry.

- Not at all, Miss Lemon.

It is of no importance.

Your friend is well?

- Well, he, uh...
he's, um...

uh, we went
to the Lyons Corner House.

- How very nice.

Thank you, Miss Lemon.

- Thank you, Mr. Poirot.

- Oh, Miss Lemon.

Why do you not invite
your friend, Monsieur—

How does he call himself?

- Mr. Graves?

- Yes, indeed.

Why do you not invite
your friend, Monsieur Graves,

to tea one day?

- Oh, yes.

Thank you, Mr. Poirot.

As a matter of fact,

Mr. Graves was most interested

when I told him
I worked for you.

He's very interested
in that sort of thing.

- Excellent.

Thank you, Miss Lemon.

- What on Earth's going on,
Poirot?

- Hastings.

Miss Lemon has an admirer.

- No!

- If you sign here and here.

- Oh, how long is delivery?

- There are three arriving
at the docks tomorrow.

I'll telephone and...

Excuse me a moment.

[conversing in Italian]

- All done.

- Good.

- Another customer?

- What?

Oh, no.
That was my uncle.

Just a family matter.

- Oh, right.

You'll want the check now, then?

[muffled conversation]

- Ah, Hastings.

You bought your car?

- Bought and paid for.

- Captain Hastings.

This is Mr. Graves.

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

I was just saying
to Monsieur Poirot

how much I envy you all

the exciting business you're in.

- Well, you know.

Please.

- Thank you.

I stayed on in the Navy
after the war.

I should have come out in 1919.

- Mr. Graves still has a boat.

- Not from the Navy, I hope.

- Oh, no.

- Show them the picture, Edwin.

- All right.

There.

- Oh.

Very trim.

Fantasia Felice.

- As a matter of fact,
Monsieur Poirot—

No.

- Yes, Monsieur Graves?

- Eh, no.
it's...

Oh, well, why not?

It's, uh, just that I was
going to say I was very near

to consulting
a private detective myself

earlier today.

- Indeed?

- What happened, Edwin?

- Well, I've been with
my employer for 11 years.

He's a foreign gentleman
living in London.

- And in what capacity does he
employ you, Monsieur Graves?

- Mr. Graves is
a private secretary.

- Some very confidential papers
were recently stolen.

My employer has been asked
to try to buy these papers back

for his government.

He used to be a diplomat.

Oh, dear.

I don't quite know how to...

- We are talking
about blackmail here,

are we not, Monsieur Graves?

- Well, these papers do contain
information which would,

well, do no good
for the reputation

of the leader
of that particular country.

And the truth is,

I don't trust
the other party involved.

- And with a blackmailer,
of course,

one has to be sure
that the evidence,

it is destroyed root and boot.

- Branch.

- Thank you, Hastings.

But we must have more details,
Monsieur Graves.

- No.

That's what's so dash
difficult.

I mean, one hint of scandal

would put the kibosh
on the whole thing.

Look, I shouldn't have
brought this up.

I'm sorry.

Could I have another cup of tea,
Felicity?

- It's very daring of you,
I must say, Hastings,

going in for one
of these foreign cars.

It's too complicated
for the likes of me.

I'll stick to my little Riley,
I think.

- We mustn't talk about cars.

We'll bore Poirot
to distraction.

- Oh, half the fun in buying
cars is talking about it.

[telephone ringing]

Would you answer that,
Miss Rider?

- Certainly, Doctor.

- If it's an emergency,

tell them to take two aspirin
and keep warm.

[chuckles]

- I shall never buy a motor car.

But if I did, I should ask
only three questions.

One: does it have
the correct number of wheels?

Two: are those wheels
firmly attached

to the corners of the machine?

- Doctor!

It was for you.

It was a terrible voice.

- What's wrong, Miss Rider?

- I answered the telephone,
and this voice said, "Help."

It said, "Doctor, help.
They've killed me."

And then it sort
of trailed away.

"Who's speaking?"
I said,

and there was this—

well, it was just a whisper.

"Foscatine.
Addisland Court."

- Count Foscatini.

[knocking]

Hello?

Hello.

- This is getting serious.

- What's going on?

- I am Count Foscatini's doctor.

I received a telephone call
from the count

saying he'd been attacked
and was dying.

- Well, do you have a key?

- Count Foscatini?

- Shh.

[cat yowling]

What's that?

[cat hissing]

- Good god.

I'd better telephone
the police.

- He's dead.

- Look at that.

Must have been the weapon.

- Possibly.

Hastings, make a search
of the apartment.

- Almost instantaneous,
I would have said.

A wonder he even managed
to telephone.

- Nothing.

What do you see, Poirot?

- Exactly what you see,
mon ami.

- Two coffee cups,

both with the remains
of black coffee.

Dish of fruit.

Nobody's used
their dessert plates there.

Two glasses.

Port.

Doesn't seem to shed
much light on anything.

- The police are on their way.

- Excuse me, Doctor.

S'il vous plait, monsieur.

This meal, was it provided
by your kitchens here?

- Flat ten ordered for two
from the a la carte menu

sent down by lift.

Soup Julienne,
filets de sole Normande,

tournedos of beef,

and a rice soufflé.

There was naught wrong
with my food, you know.

This kitchen's a showplace
for hygiene.

- Yes,
yes indeed.

One can perceive.

It would be impossible
therefore, I imagine,

to examine the dishes
from the apartment?

- Washed up, dried up,
stacked up long since.

Thinking of fingerprints,
were you?

- Not exactly, monsieur.

I am more interested in
the appetite of Count Foscatini.

Did he partake of every dish?

- We don't label the plates,
you know,

with everybody's names.

But all the plates
from ten were dirty

and the serving dishes empty.

So he must have eaten something.

- Let him finish
the photographs

before you check for prints,
Beddoes.

Thank you for your help,
Dr. Hawker.

Oh,
well, well, well.

I managed to get here
before you this time, Poirot.

- No, no, not at all,
Chief Inspector.

I've just been upstairs
interviewing the chef.

- Cor blimey.

Haven't you finished
in here yet?

- All right, sir.
Working as fast as we can.

- A sad occasion, n'est-ce pas?

- A violent death
is so wasteful.

God knows death comes
soon enough to us all anyway.

- Monsieur Poirot.

What are you doing here?

What's happened?

- Monsieur Graves.

Where is my master?

- Who're you?

- My name's Graves.

I'm Count Foscatini's

valet.

What's happened?

- Your master's been murdered,

that's what's happened.

- Yesterday another Italian
gentleman came to see the count.

Sir.

- I'm here to see
Count Foscatini.

- What name shall I say, sir?

- Mario Asciano.

He's expecting me.

- Come in, sir.

I showed him in,

although the count
hadn't told me he was coming.

This way, sir.

Signor Asciano to see you, sir.

- Avanti.

Entrare, Signor Asciano.

Come stai?

- Sto bene.
Grazie.

- Graves.
- Sir?

- Go to Bates
and collect that trilby

they've been reblocking for me,
will you?

- Certainly, sir.

- So you went out?

You don't know what went on
between them.

- Well, sir,
I was very surprised

the count asked me to leave
when we had a visitor,

so I did sort of linger
for a bit.

- And what did you hear?

- Hello.

I'd like to order lunch for two.
Flat 10.

- It wasn't very clear, sir,
but I know they had lunch

because I heard
the count order it.

- Hm.
I see.

Well, go on.

- Signor Asciano seemed
to have something in his case

which he was offering the Count.

I'm not really sure,

but I think he was
demanding money for it.

- Ah.

Well, now we're getting
somewhere.

Blackmail, eh?

- Oh, no, sir.

The count was
a most respectable man.

If blackmail was involved,

I'm sure he was acting
for someone else,

but I don't know who.

- All right.

What happened then?

- Well, nothing until
this afternoon

when the count told me
the same gentleman

would be coming to dinner
this evening.

- And?
- And he came.

I served them dinner,

and after I brought in the port,

the count said I could take
the rest of the evening off.

They went into the study,

and I went out.

- What time was that?

- Just before 9:00, sir.

- Do you think Foscatini
was active

in the Italian government?

- Very possibly, Hastings.

- Well, then why didn't Graves
tell Japp?

- Because obviously
he's respecting the wishes

of the Count Foscatini
not to endanger

the negotiations internationale.

The question is, Hastings,

did Asciano take the money
but not hand over the papers?

And since neither the money
nor the papers are here,

that would appear to be likely

and a powerful motivation
for murder.

- That was under the desk.

Apparently the victim knocked
it over as he fell forward.

- Yeah, that's convenient.

Gives us the time
of the murder anyway.

9:10.

- That was the time

at which Dr. Hawker received
the telephone call.

- Good.

- Wait a minute.

I've seen him before.

At the garage
when I bought my car.

It's Miss Fabbri's uncle.

Why on Earth did Graves
tell Miss Lemon

he was a private secretary
when he's really only a valet?

- Hastings, have you never
exaggerated your own importance

in order to impress
a young lady?

- Most certainly not.

Never.

Oh, well, I once told a girl
I was a member at Wentworth

when I wasn't,
but she didn't play golf anyway.

She thought Wentworth
was a lunatic asylum.

- 'Scuse me, gents.

There's no one there.

They're all at the wedding
on the roof gardens.

I'm the only one left.

I'm not Italian.

[upbeat festive music]

♪♪

- Yes.

We shall never find
her here, Hastings.

- Well, we've got to tell her.

We can't just let her find out
from the newspapers.

- Captain Hastings.

- Hello, Miss Fabbri.

- Mademoiselle.

-I'm sorry to break in
like this.

We've got some bad news,
I'm afraid.

- Oh?
- It's your uncle.

- My uncle?

- The one who came
to see you at the showroom,

Count Foscatini.

- Ah, my uncle.

- I'm sorry.

I'm afraid he's dead.

Murdered.

- Oh, excuse me.

I'm sorry.
Excuse me.

- She seems to be taking it
rather badly.

- Yes.

- [speaks Italian]

[conversing in Italian]

[conversing in Italian]

- Gol

Open up.
Police!

[small dog barking]

- You looking for Asciano?

- Yeah.

- He's not there.

Not been there since Monday.

- Japp says Asciano's bolted.

They've put a watch
on all the ports

in case he tries to get back
to Italy,

but...

- Il Primo Segretario
will see you now.

- Good afternoon,
Monsieur Poirot,

Captain Hastings.

Do sit down, please.

After your telephone call,
Monsieur Poirot,

I had some inquiries made.

We at the embassy have
no knowledge of Count Foscatini.

- His man certainly seems
to think you do.

- Yes, he thought
that he was working on behalf

of the Italian government in
some negotiations very delicate.

- No.
[chuckles]

- What about this Mario Asciano?

Have you had any dealings
with him?

- Italian government
does not deal with Masnadieri.

- So you do know who he is.

- Our embassy throughout
the world

tries to keep as full a record
as possible of known Masnadieri.

Asciano appears
on several of them.

- What was he saying

about making a register
of some Italian thing?

- The Masnada, Hastings,

is a very secret, ancient
confederation of gangs

spread across the world
from Naples, where it started.

- Like this mafia whatnot
I read about?

- No.

It is older than the mafia.

- So what's the connection

between the Masnada
and Foscatini?

- I do not know, mon ami.

Perhaps they came into
possession of these papers

which we are told so embarrassed
the Italian government,

and Asciano was the man
deputed to sell them back,

just as the government
deputed this so-called Foscatini

to buy them.

- The embassy said
they'd never heard of him.

- What else would they say?

- I didn't think you'd have
anything to do with me

if you thought I was a servant.

- Oh...
- Well, would you?

- Probably not.

But that's my fault.

- It doesn't matter
who's fault it is.

- All right,
nobody's fault.

The way we're all brought up
to think.

- Thank you, Hastings.

- Monsieur Poirot.

- Monsieur Graves.

- Any news?

- Very little, I fear.

Asciano is nowhere to be found.

- Oh.

Oh, well, I'd best be off,
Felicity.

Good-bye, Monsieur Poirot.

- Monsieur Graves.

I should never have left
the count alone last night.

I mean, I told you, didn't I,
that I didn't trust Asciano.

- But it is not your fault,
Monsieur Graves.

- And I just ups and offs
to the music hall.

- You weren't to know, Edwin.

- You must dismiss it
from your mind.

- Yes.

Well.

Good-bye, Captain Hastings.

- Good-bye, Mr. Graves.

- I have discovered something
rather interesting,

Mr. Poirot.

- What is that, Miss Lemon?

- Who was Count Foscatini?

- Comment?

- Well, there isn't
any such person.

- What do you mean?

- I looked up Count Foscatini
in your Almanach de Gotha,

and there's no such title
and never has been,

as far as I could see.

I didn't like
to tell Mr. Graves.

He's quite upset enough already.

[doorbell buzzing]

- You see, Hastings?

In every case of murder,

we spend so much time wondering
who is the killer

that we do not consider
the identity of the victim.

- There's a Mr. Darida
to see you, Mr. Poirot,

from the Italian embassy.

- Show him in, Miss Lemon.

- This way, Mr. Darida.

- Il Primo Segretario told you

that he does not deal
with the Masnada, I expect.

Il Primo Segretario does
everything by the rulebook.

Asciano came to the embassy
this morning,

trying to sell some papers.

- What papers?
What was in them?

- I don't know,
but I'd like to.

If Asciano gets them back
to Italy, we'll never know.

- Is that where he has gone?

- That is the only other place
he could sell them.

- Has he left London already?

- He left his house.

He said we could contact him
at Jenkins' Hotel

in Bloomsbury.

- Fairly sure he's in his room,
Sir.

- The men in position
around the back?

- Yes, sir.

[pounding at door]

- Open up!
Police!

Come on!
Open up!

Please.

Come on, man,
put your shoulder into it.

- Doing my best, sir.

- One more!

- Your name Asciano?
- Yes.

- I want to ask you
a few questions, Mr. Asciano.

- About what?

- Never mind the clever talk.

Where's the money?

- What money?

- I see.

Where were you between 8:00
and 9:00 yesterday evening?

- "Tween 8:00 and 9:00?

Here.

- Oh, yes?

Well, we have reason
to doubt that, Mr. Asciano.

We have reason to believe
that you were having dinner

with a Count Foscatini
at his flat in Addisland Court.

- I do not know
any Count Foscatini.

- Ah.

- And you have never heard
perhaps of Addisland Court?

- No, I've never heard
of Addisland Court.

- Well,
then it's very coincidental

that here's the remains
of a piece of paper

that's been burning
in your grate

that has the words
"Addisland Court"

printed on it.

- Come on!

[yelling]

- Well, that's that.

- On the contrary, mon ami.

It is, by no means, that.

- The case against him
seems pretty strong to me.

- Indeed.

Asciano was blackmailing
the Italian government.

- Yes.

- And Foscatini is employed
by the government

to pay money to retrieve
incriminating papers

from Asciano.

- Right.

- So where is the motive
for Asciano to kill Foscatini?

- Well...

- And where is the money?

- Well...

- And another thing
we must consider

most carefully, Hastings,

is the window in the dining room
of Count Foscatini.

- The window?
But it was fastened.

Nobody could have gone
in or out that way.

I noticed especially.

- Precisement.

- Has Asciano confessed
to the murder yet,

Chief Inspector?

- Not yet.

But we're quietly confident,
you might say.

- Did he have any large sum
of money on him?

- No, but his prints matched the
prints on one of the coffee cups

and on one of the port glasses
from Foscatini's dining room.

- And the motive of Asciano?

- Eh, well,
got a bit of news there, Poirot.

- News?

- Signor Mario Asciano is
on our register of the Masnada.

- Go on.

- What do you mean, "Go on?"

You asked about the motive.

Well, there you are.

It's the usual Masnada stuff.

Blackmail, murder.

- What will you do now,
Monsieur Graves?

Look for another situation?

- Yes, I shall have to, sir,

and they're not easy
to come by these days.

- No, indeed.

Oh, Monsieur Graves.

On the night of the murder
of Count Foscatini,

these curtains
in the dining room,

they were not drawn.

- Not drawn, sir?

- No.

No, they were open
just as they are now.

- But—

But I'm sure I drew them, sir.

Yes, before I announced dinner,
I drew them.

Unless the count
drew them back himself.

- Why should he do that?

- Well, perhaps he wanted to see
something outside.

- Perhaps.

- You know, I don't understand
this case at all, Poirot.

- No, it is a puzzle, Hastings.

Hastings, come here
for a moment, please.

- What is it?
- Look.

I raise my right hand, yes?
- Yes.

- Good.

Now tell me what
do you see in the mirror.

- What do you mean,
"What do I see in the mirror?"

- Just describe to me
what you see, Hastings.

- You're lifting your hand.
- Good.

Which hand?
- Your right hand.

- It does not appear to you
that I'm lifting my left?

- No.

- Be my reflection, Hastings.

Now, which hand are you raising
as I raise my right?

- I see what you mean.

I never thought about that.

It's really odd, isn't it?

- We have been looking
at this case

as if in a mirror, Hastings.

We have seen everything
the wrong way around.

- In what way?

- Be so good as to collect
the Chief Inspector Japp

and meet me at Addisland Court
at 3:00.

- But, Poirot...

- Scusi, Signor Vizzini.

Signor Poirot.

- I'm not used to people
calling unexpectedly.

I usually send for them.

- There is one question I have
to ask you, Monsieur Vizzini.

- A question?

A glass of wine?

- No.

Merci.

The man who called himself
Count Foscatini...

with what
was he blackmailing you?

- Foscatini had letters
that would ruin me

if their contents became known
to certain people.

I sent one of my Masnadieri,
Asciano,

to buy back the letters.

Asciano got the letters
and then decided to betray me,

and go into business
on his own account.

He killed Foscatini

and made off with the letters
and the money.

- You have not answered
my question.

- The letters contained
certain information.

Very well.

They contained proof that
I was giving financial support

to several antifascist
organizations.

- But, assuredly, that would
cause you no harm

in this country.

- My dear Signor Poirot,

several of my business interests

would have been destroyed
overnight.

Signor Eliso,

whose motorcars your
Captain Hastings so admires,

he is anxious
to please Papa Mussolini.

He will close me down
without a second thought.

- I can put your mind at rest
on that point, Monsieur Vizzini.

The letters,
they have been destroyed.

Asciano has burned them,
and as for your money,

Asciano does not have it,

and it is not in the apartment
of Count Foscatini.

Perhaps there is some hiding
place of which you know

where Foscatini—

- Hiding place?

No, no, no.

- There is, however, one point

about which
you are totally mistaken.

Asciano did not Kill
Count Foscatini.

- There's only one place
it can be.

- Perhaps.

- When I said that we had been

looking at this case
the wrong way around,

it was because
I have been forced suddenly

to think about the victim.

And as soon as I did so,

I apprehended that the only way
that this case made any sense

to me at all

was that if Foscatini
was the blackmailer.

- Are you trying to tell us that
Foscatini was a blackmailer too?

- Not "too," Chief Inspector.

Foscatini was the blackmailer.

- What do you mean?

- The crucial point,
as I suspected from the start,

is the dinner that came down
from the kitchens above

and was served at this table

on the evening
of the 6th of May.

Do you remember of what
that meal consisted, Hastings?

- Uh, well, uh...

I know there was some soup.

- Flat ten.

Order for two
from the a la carte menu

sent down by lift.

Soup Julienne,

filet de sole Normande,

tournedos of beef,

and a rice soufflé.

There was naught wrong
with my food, you know.

- And what did we find left
on the table?

- Two coffee cups,

both with the remains
of black coffee,

a dish of fruit.

Nobody's used their dessert
plates there.

And two glasses,
both with the remains of port.

- Well done, Hastings.

But, you see, Foscatini,
he did not eat any dinner.

- I beg your pardon.

- The report of the post mortem
from the pathologist

revealed that the stomach,
it was quite empty.

So let us suppose that Asciano
made a visit to Addisland Court

to this apartment
only the one time.

That would have been the day
before the murder.

You'll remember what
Monsieur Graves told us.

- I'm here to see
Count Foscatini.

- What name shall I say, sir?

- Mario Asciano.

He's expecting me.

- I showed him in, although the
Count hadn't said he was coming.

- I'd like to order lunch
for two.

Flat ten.

- I know they had lunch because
I heard the Count order it.

Signor Asciano seemed
to have something in his case

which he was offering the Count.

I'm not really sure, but I think
he was demanding money for it.

- But if Asciano didn't
come here that night, who did?

Who ate the dinner?

- The question answers itself,
does it not, Chief Inspector?

Who told us of the second visit
of Asciano?

- Graves, the servant.

- I was suspicious when I saw

that the victim
had replaced most carefully

the telephone receiver.

I knew when I saw the curtains,

they were not closed.

- But what have
the curtains got to do with it?

- Count Foscatini
was already dead, mon ami,

by the time Monsieur Graves
ordered the dinner.

- The count told me
the same gentleman

would be coming to dinner
this evening.

I served them dinner,
and after I brought in the port,

the count told me I could have
the rest of the evening off.

They went into the study,
and I went out.

- There was only one person

who could have killed
Count Foscatini:

Monsieur Graves.

What he told us about the second
visit was all lies.

In the same way he deceived us
about his position,

he deceived us about the events
of that night.

And then in order to mislead us,

our Monsieur Graves alters
the clock before he smashes it,

and then he had to eat
both dinners himself.

Of course he did not think
to close the curtains.

- But if he ate
both the dinners,

how come
Asciano's fingerprints were on

the glass and coffee cup?

- He kept them back
from when Asciano really came

to lunch on the previous day.

- But why would he want
to kill his master?

- For the cash his master
got from Asciano, that's why.

He'll have enough money
to go anywhere he wants.

Let's hope we're not too late.

Sergeant Beddoes,

get an immediate watch put on
all ports for one Edwin Graves.

Yes, that's right;
the servant.

And aerodromes.

"Wanted for the murder
of Count Foscatini."

- Wait a minute.

He's got his boat.
- Boat? Where?

- Oh, wait a minute.

Oh!

Poirot, you remember
the photograph.

Oh, very trim.

Where was it?

Fantasia Felice.

Where on Earth did he keep it?

Chichester!
- What?

- That's what it said.

Fantasia Felice,
Chichester.

[gulls crying]

- This must be where
it is hidden.

- I hope you're right about
this, Captain Hastings.

- And so do I.

- I know it was Chichester.

- We've told the local police.

They'll be standing by.

- I can't see anyone.

- I've told 'em to stay
well hidden.

- That's definitely the boat.

And there's an Eliso-Freccia
parked right next to it.

Look.

- 'Allo.

Graves' fancy woman.

- Well, she's heading
for the boat.

- Poor Miss Lemon.

- Oh, my Lord.

I'd forgotten about Miss Lemon.

- [screams]

- Now what?

- [screams]

- Better go on board.

- [screaming]

- You tell me now.

Where is my money?

Hey!

- All right,
all right.

What's going on?

- All we have to find now
is the money.

- And Graves.

[clutch grinding]

Hey!

That's him!

Stop him!
Stop him!

- Whoa—
oh!

- Hey, watch out!

- [shrieks]

[tires squealing]

[bells ringing]

- Hold it!

Come on!
Get after him!

- You swine!

- [grunts]

- That's for Miss Lemon.

- [sputtering]

- Come on.
Give us your hand.

- Come on, you!

- Out you come!

- [grunts]

- Edwin Graves, I'm arresting
you on a charge of murder.

- Murder?

He was nothing
but a bloody blackmailer.

- Take him away.

- Monsieur Poirot.

- Sirl

- Hey!

It's my money!

- No, it's evidence.

Take Mrs. Graves to the car.

- I'm dreadfully sorry
about your car,

Mr. Vizzini.

- My car?

No...

It's your car.

- My car?

- I was on my way to deliver it
when...

- If Vizzini thinks I'm paying
him for that wreck,

I'l tell the bank
to stop payment.

- So it wasn't Graves' boat
at all.

- No, Chief Inspector.

It was another piece
of self-aggrandizement

from Monsieur Graves.

No, it was not his.

It belonged to his master.

- The Fantasia Felice.

- No, Hastings;
The Fantasia Felice,

"the happy dream."

- The happy dream.

- I shall not forgive
Monsieur Graves, Hastings.

He, a married man,

in the cold blood,
used pauvres Miss Lemon

to gain access to Poirot

and to plant into our minds
a story ridiculous

of his master working
for the Italian government.

- I'll talk to Miss Lemon
if you like.

- No, thank you, Hastings.

It is the duty of Poirot.

- Yes, Mr. Poirot?

- Miss Lemon,
Edwin has been arrested.

- Edwin?

- Yes, Monsieur Graves.

- Good.
It's about time.

- Miss Lemon?

- Do you know what
he was going to do?

- No.

- He was going to have to move
out of Count Foscatini's flat,

so he was going to have
the Count's cat destroyed.

Couldn't be bothered
to find a home for it.

[cat yowling]

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