All language subtitles for The Moonstone [1972] E04.english

Mr Franklin, there's a mistake somewhere.
There must be.

This nightgown can't be yours.

I tell you it is. Look for yourself.

It's marked with my name.

Sergeant Cuff made a bad mistake

when he accused Miss Rachel
of the theft of the Moonstone.

But one thing he proved
beyond a whisper of a doubt.

Find the owner of the garment
with the paint stain on it

from the door of Miss Rachel's sitting room
and that person is the thief.

And I am that person, Betteredge.
And there is the witness against me.

I will not believe it.

Sergeant Cuff would tell you if he were here.
And Rosanna Spearman thought so.

But how could she?

I'm not one to speak ill of the dead,
but it was she who hid the nightgown.

She was the thief's accomplice.

No, she was my accomplice.

Read her letter, Betteredge.

At least it solves one mystery.

Even if it creates a worse one.

ROSANNA: Sir, I have something to own to you.

A confession which means much misery
may sometimes be made in a very few words.

This confession can be made in three words.

I love you.

Do you remember when you came out on us
that morning at the Shivering Sands,

looking for Mr Betteredge?

Betteredge!

Here.

BETTEREDGE: Who is it?

Oh, who is it?

Betteredge! Dear old Betteredge!

Well, don't you recognise me?

- What... can it be?
- I owe you seven and sixpence.

- Now do you know who I am?
- Mr Franklin!

Yes!

ROSANNA: You were like a lover in a dream.

You were the most adorable human creature
I'd ever set eyes on.

FRANKLIN: Good day to you.

ROSANNA:
Yet when you spoke to me I ran away.

Don't laugh at this if you can help it.

You were a favoured quest in milady's house
and I a mere servant.

But I shall be dead and gone when you read this
and it's that which makes me bold.

(Distant laughter)

I went on getting fonder of you,
Just as if I was a lady in your own rank of life,

and the most beautiful creature
your eyes ever rested on.

I fried. How I tried to get you to look at me.

If you'd known how I used to cry at night with
the misery of your never taking notice of me,

you'd have pitied me, perhaps, and have
given me a look now and then to live on.

And then the diamond was stolen.

I went with the other servants to Miss Rachel's
sitting room to see Superintendent Seegrave.

He became angry and accused one of us
of having smeared the new paint on the door.

..which of us you suspect and at once!

I cannot believe my ears.
Go downstairs this instant, every one of you.

And look what mischief
the petticoats of some of you have done already.

SERVANT: Oh, Miss Rachel's beautiful painting.

ROSANNA: Later, Penelope Betteredge
saw me looking at my gown.

I thought that it might have been I
who'd done the mischief.

You needn't concern yourself, Rosanna.
The paint on that door's been dry for hours.

If Mr Seegrave hadn't as good as accused me
of being the thief, I'd have told him so.

- How do you know that?
- I heard Mr Franklin telling Miss Rachel

it would take 18 hours to dry.

That were at midday.

What does your arithmetic say, Rosanna?

Mine says that door was dry
at six o'clock this morning.

Miss Rachel must have made the stain
last night.

She did not. I left her room at midnight
and there was nothing wrong with her door then.

Penelope, oughtn't you to mention
this to Superintendent Seegrave?

I wouldn't say a word to Mr Seegrave
for anything that could be offered to me.

ROSANNA: Part of my work, sir,
was to make your bed and to put your room tidy.

It was the happiest hour I had in the whole day.

I took your nightgown up to fold it...

..and I saw the stain of paint.

At first all I could think of was that
you'd been with Miss Rachel during that night.

I hated you then.

As I already come to hate Miss Rachel
because you loved her.

And then I knew the truth.

Penelope was under suspicion

because she was thought to have been
the last person in the sitting room.

But she was not.

You were.

And I knew then that you were the thief.

I hid the nightgown in my own room.

That day I went into Frizinghall
and bought material.

Later I made it info a new nightgown.

I'd tried to tell you what I knew... what I'd done.

I tried twice.

You hardly looked at me.

I determined to try a third time.
You were in the garden with Sergeant Cuff.

Rosanna.

- Where are you going?
- I must talk to him.

That's what you must not do. It's madness.
I beg you, put Mr Franklin out of your mind.

Let go of me. I tell you I will talk to him!

FRANKLIN: I have no special information.

CUFF: One of the female servants
spoke to you privately last night, sir.

- I have nothing to say.
- You needn't be afraid of harming the girl, sir.

On the contrary, I recommend you
to honour me with your confidence

if you feel any interest in Rosanna Spearman.

FRANKLIN: I take no interest whatever
in Rosanna Spearman.

I shall hide the nightgown at
the Shivering Sands and place this letter with it,

hoping that you'll find it some day and know that,
after all, I have managed to serve you.

Will you then say something kind of me?

If you do... and if there are such things as ghosts,
then I believe that my ghost will hear it

1 beg to remain, sir, your true lover
and humble servant, Rosanna Spearman.

Mr Franklin, sir.

- Well?
(Knock at door)

I beg your pardon.
I had no idea Mr Betteredge was engaged.

- The list for next week, Mr Betteredge.
- Thank you.

Forgive me, sir, for interrupting.
I am Ezra Jennings.

- Dr Candy's assistant.
- Ah.

- How is the doctor?
- Of course, sir, you have been abroad.

He caught a fever riding home from here
on the night of the robbery.

He has recovered in body,
but his mind has remained affected.

I'm sorry to hear that.

(Door closes)

Oh, this is a list of sick people hereabouts
who stand in need of a little wine, sir.

It's always been a family charity
and Miss Rachel wants it kept up.

- You don't seem to like that man.
- What, Ezra Jennings? Huh.

Nobody likes him around here.

But since Dr Candy's illness, his patients have to
put up with that man. They get no doctoring else.

But enough of him.

Do you see any way out of this dreadful mess,
sir?

That unhappy girl killed herself on my account.

You mustn't blame yourself, sir.
You weren't to know.

She thought she was protecting me -
as indeed she was.

Gabriel, was I drunk
on the night of Miss Rachel's birthday?

No, sir.

You were out of sorts. You had a headache.

You drank a glass or two of wine at dinner

and afterwards I poured you out a little cognac
and nigh on drowned it with water.

- A child couldn't have got drunk on that.
- Very well, I was sober.

You knew me as a boy.
Did you ever discover me to walk in my sleep?

Never, sir, no. I see what you're driving at
but, no, that's not the answer.

Then what is, Gabriel?

If you'll be guided by me, sir,
you'll return to London and see Mr Bruff.

He's a lawyer
and he's got a clearer mind than any of us.

Go to him, Mr Franklin, as you value the truth.

Go to him and go now.

Mm.

Franklin Blake...
I have some cold comfort for you here and now.

Rachel's behaviour towards you
is a mystery no longer.

She believes that you have stolen her diamond.

She cannot. What right has she
to suspect me of being a thief?

Rachel must be persuaded to tell us
upon what grounds

she bases her belief
that you have taken the Moonstone.

If we can once break through her reserve
and prevail upon her to speak out,

then the chances are that her case against you
will tumble to pieces.

Will it? How, may I ask?

Well... we admit that the nightgown is yours.

We admit that upon it
is a paint mark from Rachel's door.

But what evidence is there to prove
that you wore it on the night of the theft?

- You mean someone else...
- No, wait. You're going foo fast.

If Rachel has suspected you
on the evidence of the nightgown alone,

then the chances are 99 to 100
that Rosanna Spearman showed it to her.

You know from this letter that Rosanna
Spearman loved you and was jealous of Rachel.

And I argue from that that I am justified
in suspecting her of not telling the whole truth...

..in order to create a rift between you.

Mr Bruff, you're right. There lies the only answer.

I must speak to Rachel.

You?

You of all peop...

Yes.

Yes. Sometimes the rash way is the best way.

Nothing ventured, nothing have.

The question is: how will you see her?

If you were to ask her to come here.

- Say in connection with her mother's will.
- What?

That's cool. That's damnably cool.

In plain English, my office is to be turned into
a trap and I am to provide the bait.

Franklin Blake, if this matter
were one atom less serious than it is,

I should wash my hands of you.

As it is, Rachel will live to thank me
for turning traitor to her in my old age.

You will help me?

Consider me your accomplice.

- Rachel shall be asked to come here.
- Today?

Tomorrow.

Be here before three.

And heaven help us both
if you are not successful.

No, I correct myself.

Heaven help all three of us.

(Clock strikes)

Mr Bruff begs that you will take a seat,
Miss Verinder.

Mr Bruff is not here?

Er..he instructs me
to ask your pardon for his absence.

Rachel.

You coward.

You mean, heartless coward.

Because I want to see you I am a coward?

After what you have done?

Do you think it a manly action on your part
to find your way to me by a trick?

What is it you think I have done?

You ask that question of me?

I have kept your villainy a secret.

And I have suffered the consequences
of concealing it.

I think I have suffered enough for your sake

without having to answer the questions
of a hypocrite.

- Will you let me pass?
- I have a question to ask.

- Am I to be allowed to pass?
- Did Rosanna Spearman

show you my paint-stained nightgown -
yes or no?

- Are you mad?
- Rachel, will you answer my question?

Have you some object to gain
which I don't understand?

Are you afraid that I might harm your future by
telling the world what you have done? Is that it?

I shall keep silent now as I have done
for a year. Does that satisfy you?

You have done me an infamous wrong.

You suspect me of stealing your diamond.

I have a right to know
and I will know the reason why.

Suspect you?

I saw you take the Moonstone
with my own eyes.

You...

It's not possible.

I spared you then.

I would have spared you now
if you had not forced me to speak.

Why have you come here
to humiliate yourself and me? Why?

- Rachel, I...
- Don't touch me.

You saw me. With your own eyes,
you saw me take the diamond.

Before God, I tell you I now know
I took it for the first time, believe me.

Rachel, I want you to tell me
everything that happened -

from the time we wished each other good night

to the moment when you saw me
take the diamond.

Why go back to it? What good will it do?

Because you are the victim, as I am also, of
some delusion that has worn the mask of truth.

Now, let's begin.

That night.

You said good night to me and the others
in the drawing room. And then?

I went to bed.

Did you sleep?

No.

You were restless?

I was thinking of you.

Then what happened?

I put on my dressing gown.

I was going into my sitting room to get a book.

Did you go in?

No, I... I saw a light under the door and I thought
it might be my mother coming in to speak to me.

So I opened the door.

And you saw?

I saw you!

- What good is this?
- Tell me how I was dressed.

- In your nightgown.
- Did you see my face?

- Yes!
- Plainly?

As plainly as now.

The lamp in your hand showed it to me.

- Were my eyes open?
- Yes.

Did you notice anything strange in them?
Perhaps a vacant, fixed expression.

No.

Your eyes were bright.

Brighter than usual.

You looked about you as if you knew
you were where you ought not to be.

As though you were afraid of being found out.

Goon.

Then you went straight to the Indian cabinet.

I saw you open the door
and take out the diamond.

You are sure of that?

I saw your hand go into the drawer

and when you turned round
you were holding the Moonstone.

Did I leave the room immediately?

No. You hesitated and looked at the diamond.

Then you roused yourself and went out.

- With the diamond?
- Yes.

Well...

..you have asked and I have answered.

What have you to say now?

It cannot be true.

Why could you not have told me this
a year ago”?

Why? You ask why?

After believing in you as I did,
after loving you as I did,

should I have said to you,
"My heart's darling, you are a thief'?

You villain.

I would have lost 50 diamonds rather than
see your face lying to me as I see it lying now.

As I saw it lying that next morning.

I wanted to give you a chance and so I asked...

..I begged, "Have you anything to tell me?"

- I remember, but...
- You said nothing!

You summoned the police
and pretended to help them.

First of all Superintendent Seegrave
and then Sergeant Cuff,

to find the diamond
which you yourself had stolen.

I loved you even then.

Enough to keep silent
when I myself was accused.

But do you wonder that I despised you...

..and always will?

Why did you come here?

I promise you, Rachel...
you shall know that you have wronged me yet.

Or you shall never see me again.

(Sobs)

Good day, ma'am. I'm looking for Sergeant Cuff.
I'm told he lives here.

Yes, sir, he does,
but you've missed him by a day.

The Sergeant's gone to Ireland.

Is he there on business?

Oh, he has but one business now, sir,
and that's roses.

Some great man's gardener in Ireland
found something new in the growing of roses

and Mr Cuff's away to enquire info it

- Do you know when he'll be back?
- That's quite uncertain, sir.

But if you have a message for him,
I'll take care he gets it.

In that case, perhaps you'll give him my card.

- The moment he returns, if you please.
- Yes, sir.

Thank you. Good day to you.

(Reads) Mr Franklin Blake.

The Moonstone.

- Mr Bruff?
- Oh.

Ah. I've been waiting for you
upwards of an hour.

I've been to Dorking.

To find Sergeant Cuff.

And did you?

- He's in Ireland.
- Oh.

Well, I have spoken to Rachel.

She has told me what has passed between you.

She's not well and I blame myself.

That interview was inflicted upon her
with my connivance.

But I must ask you to make no second attempt
to see her, except with my approval.

- You have my word on that.
- Good.

She told you
that she saw me take the diamond?

- Yes.
- Do you believe her?

Yes.

She is not a liar. Nor is she a fool.

Then you think I am a thief?

Did I say that?

But I deal in truth.

And when the happenings of the past
do not make sense

then, as a rational being, I look to the future.

- Are you a fortune-teller, Mr Bruff?
- You are impudent, sir.

Now, answer me this.

What do we believe
was done with the Moonstone

when it was taken to London by the thief?

You've told me what you believe. That it was
placed in the hands of a Mr Septimus Luker.

A moneylender.
Do we know who gave it to Mr Luker?

Thank you.

No.

Do we know what Mr Luker did
with the diamond?

We believe he placed it
in the keeping of his bank.

Mark that.

He did not sell it, nor did he attempt
to take it out of the country.

He gave it into the care of a bank.

Why?

Because it was a pledge for a loan
made by Mr Luker to the thief.

A man or a woman who needed money urgently
and who approached Mr Luker,

a man known to ask no questions
when it comes to stolen property.

- Very well. Mr Luker has the diamond.
- Incorrect. The bank has it.

In these days, in this country,
when a loan is made,

it is customary to allow a period of one year
before repayment is required.

Now, we know to the day
when the diamond was pledged to Mr Luker.

For on his way home from the bank,

was he not attacked and robbed
of a receipt for a jewel by your Indian friends?

And that was close on a year ago.

The year will be up in 14 days from now.

Our thief must then redeem the diamond
or forfeit it to Mr Luker.

You may be sure that he will redeem it.

And I propose to set a watch at the bank

to see who the person is
to whom the diamond is restored.

And then we shall have him.

Or her, my boy.

The only drawback to my plan
is that danger is involved.

- From the thief?
- From the Indians.

You may be sure that they will not be far away.

Does my proposal make sense to you?

Yes.

It is... daring and it is ingenious.

- But...
- You have an objection to make.

Yes. Your plan requires us to wait.

- Is a fortnight such a long time?
- To me a lifetime.

I must do something
towards clearing my character now.

I have made up my mind to return to Yorkshire.

Back to the past.

It was in that house
that Rachel saw me take the diamond.

If there is an answer to the mystery...
I shall find it there.

I doubt it.

But go. Go, by all means.
It'll... help you pass the time.

MAN: Evening.

- Evening, Mr Franklin.
- Evening, Sam.

There's someone waiting for you.

Ezra Jennings. He's outside.

Thank you.

- Do you remember me, Mr Blake?
- Yes. Mr Jennings.

But why is Betteredge not here? Is he ill?

Last night, Dr Candy expressed a wish
to see you when you were next in Frizinghall.

I conveyed as much to Mr Betteredge, who,
by chance, had just received your telegram.

So I took the liberty of meeting you.

Would it suit you to call upon Dr Candy now?

By all means.

- Allow me.
- Ah.

I have often thought about you, Mr Blake.

If there is anything I can do for you, pray
command my services, command my services.

Sir, you sent a message
that you wish to see me.

Yes, yes, that's it. I sent a message.

It's a long time since we met.

The last time we saw each other was
a year ago, at Miss Verinder's birthday dinner.

That's it. The birthday dinner.

That was why I... I...

It was a pleasant occasion, sir.

Perhaps you have made a memorandum
in your diary of what you wanted to say.

I require no memorandum, sir.
I'm not such an old man.

My memory, thank God,
is to be depended upon.

(Chuckles)
I wish I could say the same of my memory.

I seem to retain no incident
for longer than a few months.

Take the dinner at Lady Verinder's, for instance.

The dinner. The dinner at Lady Verinder's.
I had something to say to you about that.

It was... It was...

It was a... very pleasant dinner.

A very pleasant dinner, Mr Blake, was it not?

- Yes.
- I'm so glad we've met again.

I had it on my mind to speak to you
about the dinner at Lady Verinder's.

A pleasant dinner, wasn't it?

I'm afraid, sir,
you find Dr Candy greatly changed.

He will not hear us.
In a moment, he will be asleep.

I'm afraid Dr Candy's illness must have been
more serious than I had supposed.

It was almost a miracle that he lived through it.

I believe he was trying to tell me of something
that happened a year ago at Lady Verinder's.

- Is his memory never any better than it is now?
- Mr Blake, he is as you see him.

His memory is, and will remain,
hopelessly enfeebled.

He can remember very little which, for him,
is far worse than remembering nothing at all.

He is painfully conscious of his deficiency

and tries, as you have seen,
to hide it from observation.

Perhaps we should all be happier
if we could but forget completely.

There are some events, surely, in all men's lives,
which they would be unhappy to lose.

That can be said of most men, Mr Blake.
It cannot be said of all.

Mr Jennings, is there no hope whatever that I
might somehow assist Dr Candy's memory?

No hope, Mr Blake.

Forgive me, but from your concern, do I take it
that this is a matter of some importance to you?

It may well be.

You have asked me if you might assist
Dr Candy's memory.

You cannot. But that may not be a final answer.

You speak in riddles.

Bear with me.

On the night of Lady Verinder's dinner party,
my employer caught a fever

which worsened until his life was despaired of.

I nursed him and restored him to that small
degree of health, which is all that is left to him.

- Then he owes you his life.
- A life for a life, Mr Blake.

Dr Candy saved mine
by taking me into his employment.

He was the one man on this earth
who befriended me.

During the worst part of his illness,
he was in a delirium.

He uttered words which seemed meaningless.

- He spoke of me?
- A moment, Mr Blake.

For some years past, I have occupied my leisure
in studying the brain and the nervous system.

A man in delirium does not speak sensibly.

But does that mean he cannot think sensibly?

Dr Candy's illness gave me the opportunity
of putting my doubts to the test.

I know the art of shorthand and was able
to take down the wanderings of my patient

exactly as they fell from his lips.

Nothing of what he said made sense
to begin with.

But by degrees I connected those words
as one might connect the pieces of a puzzle.

I discovered that while Dr Candy
could not speak intelligibly,

he could think as clearly as if he were conscious
and in possession of his faculties.

Yes, Mr Blake, your name was mentioned.

- May I see your notes?
- No, that will not be possible.

But for what reason?
Mr Jennings, I do not ask this favour lightly.

My notes are a record of words
spoken by a patient to his doctor, sir.

I cannot divulge their contents
unless there is very good cause for doing so.

There is good cause.

On the night of the dinner party,
a diamond known as the Moonstone was stolen.

My notes have no bearing upon that theft.

Nor upon the fact
that I am supposed to have taken it?

I think not.

But tell me exactly what happened.

(Distant door slams)

Tomlinson? Is that you?

Who are you? What do you want?

I have come, sir,
to ask you to lend me some money.

And I leave this as an assurance to you
that the debt will be repaid.

It is long past my hours of business.

- And yet, sir, you are here.
- You too are here.

And I should like to know by what means.

I come, sir, upon the recommendation
of Mr Septimus Luker.

Septimus Luker sent you here?

I applied first to him for the loan, sir,

but Mr Luker informed me
that he had no money to lend.

He was so kind as to give me his card
and to send me to you.

Mr Luker is mistaken.

I am trusted, as are other men in my profession,
with money to lend,

but I never lend to strangers
nor on such security as you produce.

Will your condescension towards a stranger

extend to answering a question
before I take my leave?

If, sir, you had agreed to lend me the money,
what would become of this?

I should lodge it in a safe place
until the time came for repayment.

The time being a year I'm told, sir.

That is the usual period.

Would a safe place be a bank, sir?

It might be.

And when the time came to remove it from
that bank, would I, sir, accompany you there?

You would be entitled to do so.

If the security were of great value,
you would certainly accompany me.

I am in your debt, sir.

(Door slams)

Mr Blake, have you ever been accustomed
to the use of opium?

Never in my life.

Were your nerves out of order at this time last
year? Were you unusually restless and irritable?

Yes.

- Did you sleep badly?
- Wretchedly.

I had left off smoking to please Miss Verinder.
As a result, I felt unwell.

There were many nights I never slept at all.

Was the night of Miss Verinder's birthday
an exception? Try to remember.

- I do remember. I slept soundly.
- Good.

Tell me what you make of that.

- Nothing. It's nonsense.
- Read it aloud, if you please.

(Reads) Mr Franklin Blake... and agreeable...

down a peg... medicine...

sleep at night... tell him... out of order.

It makes even less sense when spoken aloud.

That, and more,
was what I heard at Dr Candy's bedside.

I have filled in the gaps
between those words and phrases

by deduction and a process of trial and error.

I think they may have a bearing
on what you've told me.

But I should like time to consider it.

Can you tell me nothing more before I leave?

No, Mr Blake.

When I deciphered the notes, I was not to know
a man's good name may depend upon them.

It is now essential that I am not mistaken.

Tonight I shall re-examine my notes.

If you return in the morning,
I may have an answer.

Very well, Mr Jennings.

- Good night to you.
- Until tomorrow morning then.

Come here at ten o'clock.

{Knock at door)

I beg your pardon, sir.
A Mr Septimus Luker is here. Asked to see you.

Luker?

The devil, you say.

Have him come in.

Will you step this way, Mr Luker?

Mr Luker, sir.

My dear, dear sir.
So very good of you to see me without notice.

- An imposition, I'm sure...
- Will you sit down, Mr Luker?

Much obliged, sir.

- Perhaps you partake, sir?
- No, I do not.

Your business, Mr Luker.

Most good of you to come so directly
to the point.

(Sniffs)

I think, sir, I may owe you a small explanation.

If you allude to the visit of an Indian person
to this office on your recommendation,

then what you owe me is not an explanation
but an apology.

What else could I do? Those Indians.
They are devils incarnate.

They haunt my dreams, they follow me
about the streets. I'm sure they carry daggers.

- I'm sure they mean to kill me.
- Control yourself, Mr Luker.

A year ago they loitered about my house.

I was obliged to go for advice to a magistrate.

A week later, I was lured to a lonely place
and attacked, Mr Bruff.

It was the same Indians. They tied me up, went
through my poor belongings and robbed me.

Of a receipt for a diamond.

A receipt for a valuable, sir.

Was there mention of a diamond
in the newspaper reports, Mr Bruff?

- No.
- And why should there be?

Yesterday, the ringleader of the Indians
came to my house.

He pretended to want to borrow money
and offered me a casket as security.

And you sent him to me.

I fold him the best and safest person to apply to
for such a loan was a respected solicitor.

- You mentioned my name.
- It was the first name which occurred to me.

I hope you'll overlook it, Mr Bruff.

In consideration of my having been
really and truly frightened out of my wits.

Did the Indian ask you where and when
the security for the loan might be redeemed?

Why no, sir.

Thank you for coming to see me, Mr Luker.

- And, of course, I accept your explanation.
- Most generous of your part, sir.

I wish you good morning.

Good morning, sir. Most kind.

Most kind.

Why did he give my name to the Indian?

Beg pardon, sir?

To frighten me?

Thank you, Tomlinson.

Mr Jennings?

Mr Jennings!

Your pardon, Mr Blake.

Sleep is so rare in my life,
I take it gratefully whenever it comes.

You have been here all night on my account?

I too know what it is
to be falsely accused of a crime.

You're in bad company, Mr Blake.

I'm a man whose character is gone.

Who for 15 years has been pursued by slander.

I am incapable of proving my innocence.

I can only assert it.

Wherever I have gone,
the slander has followed me.

Dr Candy was the first man
to offer me employment and shelter.

Has the slander died out yet?

The slander is as active as ever,
but when it follows me here it will come too late.

- You will have left the place?
- No, Mr Blake, I shall be dead.

I suffer from an incurable illness.

The pain would have driven me
to take my own life long ago

were it not for an all-potent and all-merciful drug.

Opium, Mr Blake. Addiction is but a small price
to pay for relief from pain.

In any case, my need for opium will end soon.

I have been of good service to you, I think.

Here are the notes you saw last night.
Will you read them aloud again?

If you wish it.

- (Reads) Mr Franklin Blake...
- ..is clever.

Please continue.

- .and agreeable.
- But he wants taking...

..down a peg. Mr Jennings, you've done it.

Let me read you the rest. (Reads) He wants
taking down a peg when he talks of medicine.

He confesses that he's been suffering
from want of sleep at night.

I tell him that his nerves are out of order
and that he ought to take medicine.

He tells me that taking medicine and groping
in the dark are one and the same thing.

So I did. At Miss Verinder's birthday dinner.
Dr Candy and I quarrelled.

Read it for yourself, Mr Blake.

You offended Dr Candy's pride in his profession.

So he put five-and-twenty minims of laudanum
in your wine without your knowing it.

It was his intention to call on you the
following morning and ask if you had slept well.

You would have said that you'd had an excellent
night's rest and Dr Candy would have said,

"Five-and-twenty minims of laudanum. What
have you to say to the art of medicine now?"

You are telling me that I took the Moonstone
while I was drugged.

- I am.
- But is that possible?

If you doubt me, you've only to read
Dr John Elliotson's book on human physiology.

You will find a case similar to your own.

But why behave in that way? Surely the purpose
of the drug was to send me into a deep sleep.

Laudanum is first of all a stimulant.
Only later is it a sedative.

Add to that your concern for the safety
of the diamond and your question is answered.

You believe I took the Moonstone
in order to put it into a place of safety?

I think it possible.

- How can we prove that?
- By an experiment.

I see for myself
you have resumed the habit of smoking.

- How long have you resumed it?
- Nearly a year.

Will you give it up again, suddenly,
as you gave it up before?

From this moment.

And how many days are to pass
before you put laudanum in my wine?

I see we understand each other.
Let us say ten days, Mr Blake.

We must reconstruct
the events of the birthday night exactly.

You must sleep in the same room
and it must be furnished as it was then.

The corridor and Miss Verinder's sitting room

must be restored to what they were
when you saw them last.

- We would need Miss Verinder's permission.
- I shall write to her today.

From what you tell me, I think she will not refuse.

For your own part,
you must obtain the presence of a witness.

Perhaps your solicitor?

Ten days.

And at the end of that time I shall be vindicated.

If the experiment is a success, Mr Blake.

But more than your innocence is at stake.

At the end of the experiment,
we may know what happened to the Moonstone.

You took it from Miss Verinder's sitting room.

The question is, Mr Blake,
what happened to it then?

Madness.

Sheer folly.

The younger generation
has taken leave of its senses.

{Knock at door)

- Miss Verinder, sir.
- My dear Rachel!

Mr Bruff, I have received a letter this morning
from Yorkshire, from a Mr Jennings.

(Shudders) Ah, that name.

Thank you, Tomlinson. My dear young lady.

So, you have heard from Mr Jennings.

- You know him, Mr Bruff?
- I know of him.

I've just received this letter
from that young vagabond Franklin Blake.

Vagabond, Mr Bruff?
How can you say such a thing about Franklin?

He is quite the most valiant,
quite the most remarkable man I've ever met.

Indeed?

Mr Jennings has the most wonderful plan
to prove his innocence.

Wonderful plan indeed!

Franklin Blake intends to place his safety
in the hands of a man

who is not even qualified to practise medicine.

A country doctor's assistant, if you please.

Franklin is to be given laudanum,
a dangerous and pernicious drug,

in order to participate in an experiment which,
to my mind, reeks of trickery.

The trickery of mesmerism and clairvoyance
and the like.

And, to cap it all, he has the brazen temerity

to ask me to go to Yorkshire for the occasion
to bear witness.

You are going there too, Mr Bruff?
Then we can travel together.

You mean you...
you intend to associate yourself with this folly?

Mr Bruff, in his letter Mr Jennings has satisfied
me completely as to Franklin's innocence.

I need no further proof.

I am only sorry, more sorry than words can tell,
for ever having believed ill of him.

But Franklin wishes
to have his innocence proved before the world.

And Mr Jennings writes to ask me if I will place
my house at their disposal for that purpose.

- And you assent?
- Most willingly.

Well, my dear young lady,
and with great respect,

you too have taken leave of your senses.

I have given you my opinion and I wash
my hands of this entire foolhardy adventure.

Then you will not accompany me to Yorkshire?

Not unless I too
were under the influence of laudanum.

In that case, I shall not
take up any more of your valuable time.

Thank you for receiving me. Good day, Mr Bruff.

(Front door closes)

(Footsteps)
- Send young Octavius to the railway station.

I want to know the times of the trains
to Frizinghall.

- Frizinghall, sir?
- In Yorkshire, damn it!