All language subtitles for Father.Brown.S04E05.HDTV.TLA.en

Gas board, miss. The meter's
at the top of the stairs.

'The Pope's coronation gift
to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth

'has left Vatican City on the first
leg of its journey to London.

'The Pelagius Cross,
a magnificent necklace

'comprised of emeralds and rubies,

'is said to be beyond price.

'It will be accompanied to London
by representatives of His Holiness

'and a cohort of Swiss Guards.

'The Papal prelates will visit the
Roman Catholic Dioceses of Liverpool

'and Gloucester before arriving
in London, where the gift will be

'presented to Her Majesty at a state
banquet at Buckingham Palace.'

In nomine patris et filii
et spiritus sancti, amen.

Ah! Father, how very propitious.
We were just on our way to find you.

You've seen the news, then.
Such an honour.

Not that the likes of us
will get a glimpse.

That is where you are wrong, Mrs M.

I thought you should see this.

It's all very last-minute and
hush-hush, what with high security.

"Bishop Reynard requests
the pleasure of your company

"at a reception
to present the Pelagius Cross."

Idiot!

Not you, Mrs McCarthy.

He makes Bishop Talbot...
God rest his soul.

..look like Solomon. Are you thinking
what we're thinking?

Opportunity makes a thief.

Sheffield steel,

capable of withstanding
five pounds of explosives.

You could dynamite the building
and it would be left standing.

That is of huge consolation.

I'm stationing four men inside the
room and two more outside the door.

No entry or exit from the window.

A sheer drop of 50 feet
to the ground

with a reassuring lack of footholds.

Good afternoon, Bishop Reynard.

Father Brown.

Which one?

My Lord?

I have two incumbents name of Brown.

Parish of Little Haydock, "competent
but uninspired", and Kembleford,

"total ruddy liability."

Which, I wonder, are you?

Take a wild guess.
What do you want, Padre?

I believe you're holding
a reception for the Pelagius Cross.

If you're angling for an invitation

I regret
your presence isn't requisite.

It's not my presence
you should be worried about.

Are you familiar with
the name of Hercule Flambeau?

Who isn't?

But what makes you think
he'll turn up in Gloucester?

Call it an educated guess.

I know what I'd call it.

It's exactly the prize he would covet
and the opportunity he needs.

He'd have to blow the safe
without razing the building

and escape on wings.

Until the jewel is removed from the
safe for display to all and sundry.

To a select group
of highly vetted guests.

Where it will be
surrounded by my men.

If Frenchie's moronic enough
to turn up, we'll nab him.

He's a master of disguise.

I assume there's a point
to all this.

I'm one of the few people
that can identify him.

Let me be your eyes and ears,
my Lord.

You can see yourself out.

I answer to a higher authority
than you, Inspector.

Indeed he does.

Very well, Father.
You've a file thicker than my arm

but unlike my predecessor,
I believe in keeping the

more intransigent elements
where I can see them.

On your own head.

But for the record,

one of the cardinals is tipped
to be the next Secretary of State.

Embarrass me and the torments of Job
will be like the mildest of rebukes.

Whoever described England
as green and pleasant

had never laid eyes on Liverpool.

Or eaten its food.

What news from Rome?

Is there any word
on Cardinal Brunocelli?

There is no change in his condition.

He has remarkable stamina
for a man of 98.

Any rumours as to his successor?

His Eminence has decided to wait
until his body is cold

before announcing his replacement.

Allora, let us pray for him.

This is becoming tedious.

Humble acts of genuflexion -
they always appear so conceited.

Deference is a virtue
that has sadly passed you by.

I hear you're playing guard dog
at the reception.

Isn't that what you want? You're
in danger of becoming predictable.

Never second-guess a thief.

It limits your chances
of catching them.

You want to steal the Pelagius Cross
and I want to stop you.

The rules have changed.

This time I need your help.

Her name is Marianne Delacroix.

She was kidnapped two days ago
from her lodgings at Oxford.

My name is Nero Hound.

Please don't scream.
There's no-one to hear you.

You've made a mistake.
I've no family to pay you ransom.

I don't make mistakes,
Miss Marianne Delacroix.

Born 2nd June 1931.

Educated at Cheltenham Ladies
College and the Sorbonne.

Now taking your PhD in Fine Art
at St Hilda's College, Oxford,

where you have many acquaintances
but no real friends

and live alone
with your cat, Autolycus.

Do you know
who Autolycus was, Terry?

He was the son of the god Hermes,

inheriting his father's skills
for theft and trickery

and bequeathed the gift that
his thieving could never be caught.

An unusual name for a pet,
Miss Delacroix?

What do you want?

Please, no...

Oh, rest assured,
I prefer my women... willing.

And I desire something
far more precious than your virtue.

I received this.

A ransom note?

Crude but efficacious.

The sender was good enough
to leave his signature.

A dog.

A black dog. The mark of Nero Hound.

A miscreant mongrel
with dangerous aspirations.

Friend of yours?

An old score to settle.

He'd cut her throat in a heartbeat.

She's very beautiful.

Although,
if you don't mind my saying...

..she's rather young for you,
isn't she?

She's my daughter.

You know my father?

Better than most.

Then you have me
at another disadvantage.

I know he's the only man
that can steal the Pelagius Cross

from a cohort of Swiss Guards.

My father abandoned me
before I was born.

He abandoned me
to a Colombian firing squad.

So we have something in common.

And if he doesn't bring you
this jewel?

Be assured, I'll take
no pleasure in killing you.

I've never met the man.

What makes you think
he cares if I live or die?

Pride.

He has until 7pm on Monday.

Her mother? A ballerina
in the corps at the Paris Opera.

A brief pas de deux.
Strangers passing in the night.

A stranger who bore you a child.

I thought you'd approve.

What?

I spared her my corrupting presence
and honoured my obligations.

Denied her father's love.

You of all people
should know how that feels.

She received every advantage.
The finest education money can buy.

And in return?

I received a photograph
once a year from her mother.

Look, you've reason enough
not to trust me.

The truth is in her eyes.

I believe she's your daughter.

And you have surprised me.

What do you want?

I want you to practise
what you preach.

Excluding the eighth commandment,
presumably. But not the tenth.

Greed is a sin
and your church is rotten with it.

The Pope is St Peter's successor.
Theft from him is theft from God.

A God who favours the poor
over the rich.

You could say
I was doing him a favour.

And my soul?

You preach that
possessions are worthless.

Only God and men have eternal value.

You would blackmail me
with my own morality?

Oh, I'll do whatever it takes.

And you would rather a theft
on your conscience than a life.

I believe you want to save her.

Perhaps, after all, there is
some hope for your redemption.

Run that by me again.

Flambeau wants you to help him
steal the Pope's coronation gift

to the Queen of England.

Well, he wants me to look
the other way while he steals it.

And what's the difference?

Well, I'm hoping
God will make the distinction.

And you would see
through his disguise.

He's not involving her as well.

I can speak for myself,
thank you, Sidney.

And you believe
this cock and bull story of his?

I believe that she's his daughter.

Father Brown's right.
The resemblance is startling.

So what if she is?
They're probably in it together.

I don't think so. Look at her eyes.

Ah. You've noticed that as well?

If this were a ploy
she'd be trying to look scared.

But that's not fear. It's defiance.

This is the Pope's gift to
Her Majesty we're talking about.

In my experience, Mrs McCarthy,
jewels are vastly overrated.

Welcome, Your Eminence.

Inspector Mallory
from the Kembleford Constabulary,

may I present Cardinal Bonipogio...

Head of Protocol.

..and Cardinal Papillon.

Chief of Security.

I think you'll find my arrangements
more than satisfactory.

May I?

Certo, certo! Bene, bene!

Scusi, scusi.

Oh. Magnificent.

Her Majesty is indeed fortunate.

Si. Si.

Excellent.

Bon.

Who else has the combination?

Only the Inspector and myself.

And I will require it
in case of emergencies.

In the meantime, four of my men
will stand 24-hour guard.

The jewel has its own guard.

With respect, Your Honour...

how do I know I can trust 'em?

No more than I know
if I can trust yours.

We have a saying here in England -
"The more the merrier."

And another one.
"Too many cooks spoil the broth."

I asked for your help,
not your army.

Well, someone has to make sure
you don't double-cross him.

Countess. As fragrant as ever.

You can save your Gallic charm
for whoever gets to judge you.

Tea's in the pot.
You can help yourself.

I take it
you encountered some resistance.

Asking the Father
to help you thieve!

He can cleanse himself
in the confessional.

I look forward to that.

I suppose you've got some sort
of ingenious plan. Naturally.

Bishop Colum Cormac.

Suitable in terms of height
if not build.

Travelling from Donegal
for the reception,

where he will unfortunately
be delayed en route.

Holy Mother.
Now he's going to kidnap a bishop.

With Cormac safely indisposed,
I will step in and take his place.

'Once inside,
it's a simple Panama switch.'

Magnificent.

'Simple and ingenious.'

And impossible. It would take
a master forger months if not years

to make a forgery
that would pass muster.

Plan B, however,
is hastily improvised

and shameful in its crudity.

Magnificent.

Nobody move or the priest gets it.

Ha!

That's your master plan?

That is the worst idea
I have ever heard.

If I had time to be inventive,
do you think I'd require assistance?

Taking Father Brown hostage won't
hold much sway with the Inspector.

He'd probably give the order
to shoot through you.

He's right. He would.

It's the best I have.
And at worst, I tried.

You'll have to use me instead.

All hell would break loose if
you shot the Countess of Montague.

I have no cause to
deserve your help.

I'm not doing it for you, Monsieur.

Thank you.

Were you aware
my predecessor nicknamed you

"The Eleventh Plague of Egypt"?

Bishop Talbot's wit was legendary.

I share his sense of humour,
but not his tolerance.

So if I can prevail on you
to behave yourself...

Ah, Your Eminences.
This is Father Brown.

Father Brown?
He is not on the guest list.

No. He is, er... Internal security.

Cardinals Bonipogio and Papillon.

Cardinal Bonipogio.

Cardinal Papillon.

Are you related to
Procurator Papillon?

An uncle.

My family has been breeding
papal courtiers for centuries.

There have been Papillons
in the Vatican since 1790.

My colleague, on the other hand,
as the son of a circus performer,

demonstrates just how modern-day
the Curia has become.

My father was an artiste.

He was feted by
the kings and queens of Europa.

Cesare Bonipogio, the Great Marvel?

Si, you are clearly
more educated than some, Father.

It is said
he could turn water into wine.

And then into brandy
and back into water again!

Crude trickery!

The last of the guests have arrived.
Shall we go inside?

Oh, Bishop!

Colum... Cormac.

Nice place you have here.

Welcome to Gloucester.
I trust you had a good journey.

Uneventful, thanks be to God.

Haven't we met before?

I don't think so.

In the Parochial House in Drumkeen.

I could have sworn
you were losing your hair.

Bishop Reynard. What a pleasure
to see you as always.

Countess. How honoured we are
by your presence.

I can't wait to get
a glimpse of the cross.

I can barely contain myself.

My Lords, ladies and gentlemen,

may I present the Pelagius Cross!

Guards, secure the building!
Maintenant!

Go back to the Presbytery.
Meet me there.

I'll be a couple of hours.
Oh, and, Terry, when I get back,

I expect to find the young lady
as I left her.

What shall I do with
the guests, Inspector?

None of them went within feet of it.

Take statements, search them
and let them go. Yes, sir.

It must have been
taken from the safe.

Impossible. Or a miracle.
Except I don't believe in miracles.

Please be careful. That is
a holy reliquary blessed by Il Papa.

You failed me, Father.

You said if he turned up
you'd raise the alarm.

This wasn't Flambeau's work.

For once, me and the Padre
are in agreement.

Unless he's invisible
and can walk through walls.

Then how do you explain it?

Elementary. A - it was a miracle

or B - it was an inside job.

What are you suggesting?

As there were only three of us
who knew the combination,

it rather narrows our options.

I hope no-one's pointing
the finger at me.

It seems we are all
under suspicion, non?

Don't try to deflect the blame.

His Holiness placed his trust in you
and you have failed him.

You have brought disgrace
on the name of the Holy See.

I will be tendering my resignation,
but there is work to be done.

We'll all be tendering
our resignations unless it's found.

It didn't magic itself
into thin air.

If it was an inside job, chances are
it's still in the building.

Are you sure it was...

Yes.

The cross disappeared from the safe.

In a locked room
surrounded by guards.

I commend the mastermind
that did it.

What will you do?

I have until seven o'clock,
when I'll go to the drop

and kill Hound with my bare hands.

I'm sure it won't come to that.

You'd rather I defeated him
with platitudes?

I mean, Inspector Mallory thinks
it's an inside job,

so the cross may still be
in the Bishop's Palace.

A palace with over 100 rooms.

You're unusually silent...

Shush! Let the man think.

We're looking at this
the wrong way round.

A jewel vanishes from
a locked and guarded safe,

which we all know is impossible.

I assume there's a point to this?

Let's not dwell on the impossible.

Let's look to the probable.

The jewel wasn't stolen.

'Father!'

My Lord.

Breaking news.

Bishop Cormac was found stripped
and naked in Kembleford Wood.

Flambeau's work.

'Obviously the police are keen
to talk to you but after that

'I expect my "eyes and ears"
explanation on tenterhooks.

'Shall we say two o'clock?'

Mallory.

I'd love to stay and chat,
but I have a prior engagement.

Hang about.

Parlour window. Brings you out
the back of the churchyard.

Please, go upstairs
and give me until six o'clock.

You expect me to believe
you'll find the jewel?

You have no choice.

Six o'clock.
Then I'll do whatever I have to.

Oh, gentlemen.

I think you need
some new spectacles, Padre.

Help! Fire, help!

What the...?

Ecclesiastical security.

You won't find it in there.

Flambeau has it. Bishop Cormac made
a positive identification,

which is
more than can be said for you.

So what have you got to say
for yourself? I'm truly sorry.

Don't play the repentance card.
Do something.

If the jewel isn't recovered
before tomorrow, I'm ruined.

They'll send me to Coventry.
Literally.

And make no mistake, you'll be
coming with me. Is that clear?

Perfectly.

As for the thief, may God have more
mercy on his soul than I will.

Inside.

You're more like your father
than I realised.

And just as irritating.

Now you leave me no choice
but to punish you.

I can't wait any longer.

You stay right where you are.

Are you not going to say anything?
She's his daughter, Mrs M.

And if I don't go now,
you'll be praying for her soul.

Need a wingman?

You don't know Nero Hound.

I wouldn't have your life
on my conscience.

Always knew you had one.

Dear God!
He's stolen the Queen's jewel.

I doubt she'll care.
What on earth would she wear it with?

Who? And how?

At the moment,
that's the least of your concerns.

I suppose I'm in your debt.

I'm coming with you.

You'd only slow me down.

It's not a request.

If Hound has harmed
a hair on her head...

he'll be needing a priest.

Time?

Um...

A minute to seven.

Nero! I have the jewel!

Something's wrong.

She's not here.
So there's still hope.

I will tear him limb from limb.

I didn't know you cared.

Allo, Papa.

Where's Hound? Then again...

He's locked in the cellar
and his thug's in the outhouse.

Did they hurt you?

Not as much as I hurt them.

You overpowered two men?

I had no high expectations
of your arrival.

Where's the jewel?

I have questions first.

In case you hadn't noticed,
I'm the one holding a gun.

Come on. The smell in here
is making me sick. Chop chop.

That won't be necessary.
You know I'm no threat.

I don't know you from Adam.

I don't even know what to call you.

Papa? Monsieur Flambeau?

Daddy seems rather informal
given our lack of acquaintance.

I wouldn't worry about it.

Our touching reunion
will be short and sweet.

The jewel?

I'm curious to see
the object worthy of my life.

I'm flattered.

Russian baroque.

Maxim Korytov.

I'm surprised you didn't keep it.

It would sit well in
Le Voleur's collection.

Given our lack of acquaintance,
you know a lot about me.

I've studied your career
since my mother's death,

when I discovered the identity
of my "secret benefactor".

The Star of David,
the St Jerome triptych...

It was you who stole
the St Jerome triptych?

The Duchess of Bourbon's diamonds...

That wasn't me.

I did wonder.
The theft was cruder than usual.

How did you escape?

I waited for Hound to leave
and started a fire.

Unfortunately he returned
earlier than expected.

You're more like your father
than I realised.

And just as irritating.

Now you leave me no choice
but to punish you.

You expect me to believe you shot
a gun from his hand at 20 feet?

Hardly. I was way off my mark.

I was aiming for his heart.

You need to account for the recoil.

I'm much more at ease
with a fencing sabre.

Rest assured, the money lavished
on my education was well spent.

I gave you every advantage.

Except one.

You were better off without me.

Only I can be the judge of that.

I bear no resemblance to my mother.

As a child I'd look in the mirror
and see the face of a stranger.

Like half of me was missing.

I'll make a cup of tea.

Please don't shoot me.

Is the priest real?

Very. So I'd advise you
to watch what you say.

You keep strange friends.

He's no friend of mine.

I thought we understood each other
rather well.

You stole the jewel for me.

Technically, I stole it.

And if it's not returned I will spend
the rest of my life in Coventry.

Parts of it are quite pleasant.

I hear they're building
a new cathedral. Ha, ha.

A pet priest stealing from his own.
Why would he do that for you?

Moral blackmail.

A victim of his own conscience.

He really is a priest?

My God sets no store
by earthly treasures.

Your God is a killjoy.

What news?

Interpol have been alerted and are
watching every entry port to France.

There is still hope.

Not for Cardinal Brunocelli.

God rest his soul.

And still no word of his successor.

Although that will be of
little interest to you now.

I thought you were dead.

You left me for dead
in a Bogota prison.

An ungallant way
to treat your partner.

I didn't like your methods.

I didn't expect you
to be quite so squeamish.

How did you esc...? Be quiet.

Your daughter has very pretty hands.

But not so deft at tying knots.

You have what you want.
Now she will leave.

Not yet.

We had a deal.
The jewel for the girl.

I have a new score to settle now.

Your brat shot off
one of my fingers.

You and I will negotiate
compensation in private.

In the meantime you have the cross
and she WILL leave.

Go. Now. Both of you.

No!

It's profoundly biblical.

An eye for an eye.

Or in this case, a hand for a hand.

You're wounded.

I'll live long enough to kill him.

Stop! Stop!
Vengeance is the Lord's alone.

Back off, priest!
This is not your battle.

Unless you want a life
on your conscience, stop him.

Please, don't kill him
on my account.

The prize is mine.

I would say au revoir,
but once the police are alerted

to your whereabouts, you're looking
at 30 years with parole.

Goodbye, Nero.

Will you return the jewel to the
priest? He risked his all for me.

He'll get his reward in heaven.

What? I warned you'd be better off
not knowing me.

So what happens now?

I need to sit down.

To us?

You will return to your studies.

My PhD is almost complete.

A catalogue of the finest
private collections in Europe.

With the owners' full co-operation,
naturally. After that,

there are limited career paths open
to orphan girls of good education.

Perhaps you're in need of
some fatherly advice.

Guard this.
He isn't as simple as he looks.

He's lucky.
The bullet passed right through.

I don't believe in luck.

Can you find something
to make bandages with?

What are you doing?!

What? Making up for lost time.

Let her go. We've only just met.
Now you expect me to let her go?

You're her father,
you should protect her...

Unfounded, given
recent turn of events.

..from whatever unholy alliance
you are planning.

She'd make a worthy pupil.

And how long till
she's corrupted and defiled

and her heart is as black as yours?

Now you're in danger of
being predictable.

The difference is, I now know
that you have a conscience.

This is the only antiseptic
I could find.

Ready?

Ready.

Take the jewel if you must.

But she is innocent.
Do not take her soul.

Yours are not the only wounds
that need attending.

Flambeau, stop!

I went to school with the daughter
of the Marquis of Apreville.

His security is highly flawed.

And his Netsuke are magnificent.
And extremely portable.

Would you have mown down the priest?

Ha! He had his God to protect him.

How does it feel to take a life?

That's an inappropriate question
for a young lady of breeding.

I ask because part of me wishes
you had killed Hound

and part of me regrets I didn't.

You need a doctor.

No doctors.

Then some surgical needle and thread
and I'll stitch it.

This is as far as we go.

I don't understand.

You are a remarkable young woman

but if I'd wanted a daughter, do you think
I'd have waited 23 years to find you?

We have a connection.

You don't know me from Adam.

I know you feel something.

Guilt? Regret?

I would never allow
such self-indulgence.

You're making a mistake.

I am you.

Together we could be invincible.

The jewel, if you please.

We won't meet again.

So long, Marianne.

It's not there.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

A jewel vanishes into thin air
from a locked safe.

Must be magic.

But magic doesn't exist.

Only illusion.

And who knows that better...

..than the son of The Great Marvel?

A few adjustments to the casket
is all it took.

Excellent.

Flambeau has it.

He must have switched the caskets.

I have taken a vow of poverty.
What value is a bauble to me?

Priceless, in terms of ambition.

With Cardinal Papillon discredited,

the Secretary of State's
position is yours.

Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned.

It has been one day
since my last confession.

You'd hold me to the sacred seal
to ruin an innocent man's career?

I wouldn't expect a rural priest to
understand the niceties of politics.

I don't expect God does either.

Well, well, Father,
aren't you the surprise?

This was delivered to
the police station addressed to you,

so naturally I opened it,
and lookee here...

I'm agog as to how you explain this.

I can't.

But what I do know is under
the seal of the confessional.

You'll have to do better than that.

There's not another man in this room
that would agree with that statement.

Quite. Even so,
you must have something?

What I can say is that

His Holiness has cause to look
favourably on Cardinal Papillon.

I don't know
what he's talking about.

Your humility is a credit to you.

Indeed it is. You can rely on me to
convey knowledge of his assistance

to the Holy Father.

So all's well that ends well.

It ended well for Papillon.

He's been appointed
Cardinal Secretary of State.

Why would Flambeau return the jewel?

I've been thinking
the same thing myself.

Touche, ma fille!

It certainly seems
out of character.

Hello.

One of his little games.

Or maybe the man has finally
found a conscience.

Maybe he has.