All language subtitles for S01E08 The Red Signal

- The red signal.
- l beg your pardon, sir?

Are you alright, sir?

Yes. I, er...

- I... What?
- I thought you spoke.

Shouldn't you be going?

When I give you the night off
I intend it to be the night off.

- Well, sir, if you're sure.
- Of course, of course.

I really am most grateful, sir.

My sister's giving a party for
the parents. It's their golden wedding.

- Milson, I already know.
- Yes, sir.

If you don't leave at once,
you'll be late for the festivities.

Yes, sir.
Well, you will manage, sir?

Milson, I'm going to dinner
with Mr and Mrs Jack Trent

and I think I can manage to do that
without your help.

Yes, sir.
Well, if you'll excuse me,

the fog has come down
and it's a good stretch to the Angel.

- Take a cab.
- No, sir, I couldn't.

Oh, come on, I insist.

If you hadn't stayed to dress the baby,
you'd already be there.

Thank you, sir. Most generous.

Now, off you go.

Yes, sir. Good night, sir.

The red signal...

Why tonight of all nights?

- Still foggy?
- I'm afraid so, sir.

Sighs)

- I'd much rather stay here.
- Yes, sir.

I could telephone Mr and Mrs Trent and
say that on account of the weather...

No, I must go.

It isn't entirely a social call.

Should Dr Hodson telephone,
you may tell him where to find me.

I understand.

Although the thought of a seance
makes the heart sink.

-(doorbell)
- That's Charlson with the car, sir.

I shouldn't be late but I have my key
in case you want to retire early.

No point both of us suffering
in the call of duty.

I shall of course remain up
until your return, sir.

There you are, McKern.
I'm not too early, I hope?

Mr Trent is in the drawing room,
madam.

(man) Violet?

You look ravishing.

Because I am, Jack!
What a beastly night. Thank you, McKern.

Come along in.

I am the first. How sordid!

Well, that's because you had
furthest to come. Dry martini?

Should one,
before a spiritual experience?

Why ever not? Spirit to spirits.
I've already had two.

- Is this where Mrs Thing will perform?
- Thompson, Mrs Thompson.

What a very ordinary name
for a medium.

- I believe she's a very ordinary woman.
- With extraordinary gifts.

Marion Partridge has twice
spoken to Bertie through her.

Poor Bertie, and he went to such lengths
to escape from Marion.

(Laughs)

Jack! You are wicked.

If you don't take this whole thing
seriously I shall be very cross.

I believe in it implicitly.
Where's Claire?

Taking her time, as usual.
Mind if I hurry her?

Of course.

I'm perfectly happy left snooping
in anybody's house.

If you find anything exciting, do let me
know. We lead a very dull life.

People who live in Mayfair
are not allowed to be dull.

Tell Claire if she's wearing my colour
I shall send her upstairs to change.

No, my darling.

I've told you before
not to play with knives.

It could cut you.

Jack... I found it.

Then I must make sure
that you don't find it again.

There. It will be safe in there.

Shall we do down?
Violet's already here.

So many locks in this house.

All set? Perfect evening for a seance.
Thick fog and Violet Eversleigh.

Poor Violet. Don't be beastly about her.
She's one of our closest friends.

Yours, my love.
My best friend is dear old Dermot.

It really is time he married.
Do you think Violet would suit?

- But then, perhaps not.
- No?

He'd never marry a divorcée, darling.
Don't you agree?

Far too upright.(chuckles)

(Violet) it isn't every evening
one goes to a seance.

I think it thrilling. They say
that women have a sixth sense.

Perhaps that's why so many are mediums.
Do you think that true, Sir Alington?

It depends what is meant
by "sixth sense".

There is so much nonsense talked.

Oh, pooh!
You scientific men are always so severe.

Is your uncle always like this, Mr West?

I rarely see him in company,
Mrs Eversleigh.

I didn't even know
you were acquainted.

You may be my nephew but you
do not know all my acquaintances.

Apparently not!

The after-dinner entertainment is the
real attraction, isn't it, Sir Alington?

It's true I very rarely go out
in the evenings.

My day is taken up with consultations.
I need time to myself.

- Yes, McKern?
- A telephone call for Sir Alington.

A Dr Hodson, sir.

As you see, I seldom get it.

If you will excuse me.

You're surprised
to find your uncle here?

I certainly am. In social terms
he's practically a recluse.

I didn't think he knew
about human beings, just cases.

-(Laughter)
- Then he's in for a dull evening!

Unless Mrs Thompson
turns out to be raving mad.

Of course, it could be you
he's worried about.

Claire, Dermot wonders
why Sir Alington is here.

I don't care why he's here.
I'm just thrilled he is.

All that authority. I do hope he isn't
being called away or anything like that.

Claire, does this Mrs Thompson
use a Ouija board or a crystal ball?

- Nothing like that.
- Oh, what a pity.

- Jack, old boy, why is he here?
- (violet) Jack! My glass is empty too.

Not all my patients are lunatic,
Mrs Eversleigh.

(violet) I stand corrected.

Do you suppose there is anything
in what people call sixth sense?

Absolute bunkum, old love.

Your best friend is killed
in a railway accident

and you remember that you dreamt
of a black cat last Tuesday.

Marvellous! You felt all along
that something was going to happen.

No, no you're mixing up premonitions
with intuition.

Sir Alington, surely you admit
that premonitions are real?

Perhaps, but I'm damned
if I know what they are.

Oh, I beg your pardon. We scientific men
as you call us, Mrs Eversleigh,

have constantly to be on our guard
against coincidence,

and there's the invariable tendency
to make the most of a story afterwards.

We scientists cannot rely
upon such frail evidence.

We must research and verify.

We take no person's word for anything.

So, you scientific chaps rely heavily
on personal observation, is that it?

De temps en temps,

After all, it's only natural
we should want proof, shall we say?

I don't think there is any such thing as
premonition or intuition or sixth sense

or any of the things
we've been talking about so glibly.

We go through life like a train
rushing through the darkness

to some unknown destination.

Come on, old love,

even a train rushing through the night
isn't entirely in the dark.

- There are signals to follow.
- The signals, how odd.

What did you say?

I see what Jack means, the signals.

-(Jack) Green for go, red for danger.
- (violet) Red for danger. Thrilling!

(Dermot) Not exactly that.
It's more vague, insubstantial.

You speak as though
it were an actual experience.

- Oh, it is, or has been.
- Oh, do tell us, Mr West.

- It's a very boring story.
-(all disagree)

(all chuckle)

It was out in Mesopotamia
just after the Armistice.

I came into my tent
one evening and saw it.

Saw what?

- The red signal.
- Danger, look out!

I hadn't a ghost of an idea
what it was all about.

I made a round of the camp,
fussed unnecessarily,

took precautions against an attack by
hostile Arabs, and went back to my tent.

And as soon as I got inside
I had the feeling again, only stronger.

No, it wasn't a feeling...

I saw it.

Yes, somehow I saw it,
the red signal.

In the end I took my blanket outside,
rolled up in it and slept there.

(violet) And?

Well, the following morning
when I went back to the tent...

You must remember this, Jack.

A whopping great knife stuck through
my bunk just where I should have been.

I remember. Wasn't one
of the Arab servants to blame?

(Dermot) Oh, it was never proved.

His son had been shot as a spy.
It was thought he held me responsible.

But anyway...

(chuckles) That's an example
of what I call the red signal.

Well!

Sir Alington?

Very interesting story, Dermot. Now
why have you never told it to me before?

- I doubted you would believe it, Uncle.
- And do you, Sir Alington?

I'm sure my nephew had a premonition
of danger, just as he says,

but where did it come from?

- I suggest the subconscious.
-(all scoff

The good old subconscious,
blamed for everything these days.

I suggest that some glance or look
from this Arab had already betrayed him.

Your conscious self did not notice it,
but your subconscious picked it up,

believed an attempt might be made
to kill you

and succeeded in forcing its fear
on your conscious realization.

- Well, sounds convincing.
- But not nearly so exciting.

It's possible you were subconsciously
aware of the hate felt by this man.

Oh, Sir Alington,
don't be so analytical.

My dear Mrs Eversleigh, how
can I help it? That is my profession.

Yes, but we're not your patients,
we're not your loonies.

Have there been
any other instances, Dermot?

One or two but nothing so pictorial.

Recently?

- No, not until...
- Oh, don't stop there! Not until what?

No, I was merely going to say...

- What poppycock it is, my dear boy!
- Exactly.

-(rings bell)
- I believe in your red signal, Mr West.

- Don't you, Jack?
- I'm with Sir Alington.

A little too fanciful for me.
More wine, Violet?

Oh, do you think I should?
I want to be sober for the spirits.

(indistinct conversation
in dining room)

But what is madness, Mrs Eversleigh?
What is meant by it?

The more we study the subject, the
more difficult we find it to pronounce.

We all carry a certain amount
of self-deception,

but if we carry it so far as to believe
that we're Tsar of all the Russias,

we're shut up or restrained.

But there's a long road
before we reach that point.

At what particular spot on it
should we erect a post and say,

on this side sanity,
on this side madness, hmm?

It can't be done, you know.
And I will tell you this.

If a person suffering from delusion
happens not to tell,

you should never distinguish him or her
from a normal individual.

-(covers gasp with cough)
- Are you alright, Mrs Trent?

Yes, thank you.

Er, we mustn't be too long.
Mrs Thompson is due soon.

Just a moment, Claire.

It isn't every day that one can sit
at the feet of an expert.

Go on, Sir Alington,
you were in full spate.

Experts can be crashing bores
at dinner.

- Oh, please!
- I was simply saying, madam,

that the extraordinary sanity of the
insane is a most interesting subject.

(Violet) I've heard
loonies can be very cunning.

Remarkably so.

The suppression of one's particular
delusion often has a disastrous effect.

(Violet) Oh, come on, everyone, own up.

I have a sneaking delusion
that I'm Lady Godiva!

-(Laughter)
- But only in the middle of a heat wave.

Not a matter for jokes, Mrs Eversleigh.

All suppressions are dangerous.

The man who has a harmless eccentricity
and can indulge it

very seldom goes over the borderline.

But the man or woman, who to all
appearances is perfectly normal,

may in reality
be a source of great danger.

To whom?

To the community.

Perhaps even
to their nearest and dearest.

I'm sorry...

It's alright, darling.
There's no harm done.

(Violet) Well, how terrible!
And all from suppressing one self.

Which only goes to show
that one must be very careful to...

Express one's personality.

Fortunately I have
very little difficulty on that score.

My dear Mrs Eversleigh,
you insist on misunderstanding me.

Oh, I'm sorry, Sir Alington.
I didn't go to university. I am trying.

The cause of the mischief
is in the physical matter of the brain,

sometimes arising out of
some outward agency such as a blow,...

..sometimes, alas, congenital.

(Violet) Hereditary is so sad,
consumption and... things.

Tuberculosis is not hereditary.

I'm sorry, I thought it was.
But madness is. How dreadful.

- Should we...?
-(chair clatters)

- Really, my darling!
- I'm so sorry.

- You're all of a twitch.
- It's the spooks to come!

Come along, Claire.
Let's leave the men to their port.

- One glass and we'll be with you.
-(Sir Alington) Ladies, forgive me.

I've had a splendid evening, even if
I bored the rest of you to distraction.

It isn't over yet. There's still
the reason for your visit.

Reason?

Mrs Thompson and her renowned gift
of contacting the spirits.

Don't analyze her, or she'll get
the dear departed on to you!

That isn't the real reason, is it?

For God's sake, Jack,
why can't you trust me?

Old buffers like me cannot resist
holding forth on our pet subjects.

Not at all.

But it is a serious subject.

One to be faced.

Port, Sir Alington?

(Mrs Thompson) An affair of the heart...

Such sadness...

So much in the name of honour.

There's love that cannot be spoken.

If the person knows...

Well... it could be me.

- Frederick Farley is distracted by me.
- Shh, Violet.

But he isn't here. She can hardly
expect me to pass on the message.

I can see a woman.

- A tall woman.
- (Violet titters)

Very distressed. She knows someone here.
She wants to tell them something.

Does anyone recognize her?

You must give us more to go on.

But she's very distressed.

She died too soon.

- Somewhere warm.
- Your mother died in India, Claire.

- Shh, Jack.
- Yes, India, could be India.

A sad woman.
Sad for you. She fears for you.

Yes, it is India. I know that now.

She... She's wearing
a long white muslin dress.

- Does she say anything?
- She's sad for you, but...

She understands. She understands!

(Jack) I'm dashed if I do!

Is there anyone there for me?

I am at their mercy.
The spirits are not there to be ordered.

They come if they will.

- A... And...
- (Violet titters) She's off again!

No...

No, no. No, no, no!

- Who is it now?
- I can see no one, no spirits. No one!

Oh, this is no good.

Stern voice) Don't go home.

Don't go home! Don't. Don't.

No. No, don't go home.

Who? Who?

Don't go home. Danger.

Blood.

Fear and blood. Don't go home!

Don't. No.

Red.

Not much blood but enough.

Don't go home.

Do we applaud?

What's the good of that?
We don't know who she was talking to.

- Is it over?
- That's all, I'm afraid.

- How long has it been?
-(Alingham) Three quarters of an hour.

Oh, not long, I'm sorry.
I know how disappointing it can be.

Was there anything?

Towards the end
you saw Mrs Trent's mother in India.

Oh? And how did I know
it was India?

Mr Trent told you.

Oh, it's a pity. You see, we pick things
up so quickly when we're in that state.

Pity. If you told me,
it's not trustworthy.

(Alington) Indeed.

My dear Sir Alington,
how you unbelievers love to find a flaw.

But you must find that in your work.

You deal with the subtle world,
I with the spirit world.

Both are implausible
to the unenlightened.

But... was that all that took place?

That and the fact
that none of us should go home,

which will put a severe strain
on the hospitality of our hosts.

- I said that?
-(Jack) Danger and blood.

(Alington) And all manner of mayhem.

- Sudden death.
- (Violet) I beg your pardon?

Er, it's gone now.
But there's an atmosphere here.

Has anybody died recently
connected to any of you?

People dropping down like flies
left, right and center.

There is something.
I wonder why you came, Sir Alington.

Not to see me, I'm sure of that.

But are we to go home ever?
What am I supposed to do?

Come dancing.
We're off to the Grafton Galleries.

Violet is already invited, Jack.

Midnight is a new day.
The curse won't last that long.

I'm sorry, but my role
is to communicate, not to advise.

Well, I am going home.

I'm an old man, and old men
turn into pumpkins at 1 2 o'clock.

Mrs Thompson, can I give you a lift?
My man is bringing the car round.

Oh, no, thank you.
I like to walk after communicating.

Sir Alington's motor car
is at the door, madam.

Didn't I say so?

- Dermot, you will accompany me?
- Oh, don't drag him away!

I shall be a wallflower without him.

I'll only keep him a moment.
He can join you at the Grafton.

- Of course, Uncle.
- If I could have my coat.

Dermot, do you know
the new quickstep reverse?

I've only just made it up,
so no one else can possibly know it.

(indistinct conversation)

(Violet) I don't believe a word of it.

(Violet) Wasn't that
a thrilling evening?

- You're very troubled.
- No, no.

(Violet) Don't look so stuffy,
Sir Alington.

- How did your mother die, Mrs Trent?
- It was never known.

There's a sickness here.
I know it, I... I can feel it.

Go away! Go away from me.

I'm alright!

- I'm sorry but I can't help feeling...
- A check will be sent, Mrs Thompson.

- Mrs Trent, I can't help my feelings.
- Good night, Mrs Thompson.

- What can't wait?
- This won't take long.

No. No, the Grafton's
only a step away.

Oh, good. Alright, Charlson, good night.
Where the devil did I put the key?

- Good night, Sir AIington, Mr Dermot.
- Good night, Charlson.

Well, that's damned odd.

I could swear I brought the key.

But It's not here.

Johnson will still be up.

Confound it, Johnson,
I never lose things.

No, sir. I'll have a thorough search
for you, sir.

Yes, yes, but in the morning.
You go to bed now.

One last service, old chap.
A couple of whiskey and sodas. You?

No, thank you.

Come along, Dermot,
the Grafton's only round the corner.

- Straight away, sir.
- Ah, very well.

Come over by the fire.
Have a warm.

Filthy night.

What is it, Uncle?

You don't know?

Perhaps. I... I'm not sure.

You're my only relative, Dermot.
I have the right to ask.

What does Mrs Jack Trent
mean to you?

Let me put it another way.

Am I mistaken or have you
a certaintendressefor the girl?

- Well?
- Jack Trent is my best friend.

- That is no answer.
- And I wish he'd never married her.

I dare say you find
my views highly puritanical,

but I remind you that you are my heir.

There is no question of divorce.
We never speak of it.

My dear chap, there is not,

for reasons which I understand
perhaps better than you.

There have been women beforefor you.

I can assure you
there will be women to come.

CIaire Trent is notfor you.

Why were you there this evening?

That ridiculous seance would never Iure
you from the comfort of your own hearth.

And yet I do know, perhaps better than
you think, the reasonfor your presence.

- You know?
- I think so.

Am I right when I say you were there
in your professional capacity?

Yes.

Though of course
I could not have told you so myself.

And yet I fear it will soon
be common property.

Poor Claire.

I have known for so long
that all was not well. If only I'd...

Dermot, there was nothing
you could have done.

- Your mind is made up?
- There's insanity on the mother's side.

- The mother?
- Sad, very sad case.

- Oh, I can't believe it.
- The evidence is conclusive.

In such cases the patient must be placed
under restraint as soon as possible.

Oh, my God!

But you... you can't!

You can't lock somebody away
for doing nothing.

Patients are only placed under restraint
when there is danger to the community.

- Very great danger.
- How great?

In all probability, homicidal mania.
It was so in the mother's case.

- I don't believe it.
- What?

Not one word. Doctors make mistakes,
everybody knows that.

So keen to be proved right
in their speciality.

- Oh, Dermot, don't be an idiot.
- I don't believe it!

But even if I did, I don't care.
I love Claire.

I have always loved her.
Since the first day I met her.

She married my best friend Jack.

And if she will come away with me,
I shall take her away.

I shall guard her, look after her,
carefor her with love!

- I forbid it, do you hear?
- I do not hear you, Uncle.

Understand me, Dermot.
If you do this shameful thing...

..it's the end between us.

I shall withdraw my allowance

and I swear you shall not receive
a penny after my death.

Do you think that will make any
difference? This is the woman I love!

- A woman who...!
- One more word and I'll kill you!

Ahem!

That will do, Johnson.

Put the tray down.

- Go to bed now.
- Thank you, sir. Good night, sir.

I'm sorry, Uncle, I should not
have spoken to you in that way.

- We'll say no more about it.
- But Johnson...

Whatever Johnson thinks,
he will keep to himself.

Of course I can quite see
from your point of view, you are right,

but the idea that any monetary
conditions can deter me is absurd.

I think we've both said more than enough
for one evening. Good night, Uncle.

Dermot.

There really is no good
in arguing further. My mind is made up.

Good night, Uncle.

Sighs)

sighs)

-(door rattLes)
- Dermot?

Is that you?

You need help.

I can help you.

(dance music plays)

Ah, Mr West!

- Hello, Guido.
- Nice to see you.

- My friends are expecting me.
- Mrs Eversleigh is on the dance floor.

Thanks.

(Lively conversation and music)

- Hello, there!
- Ah! There you are!

- Have you seen Jack?
- I've been pining for you.

- Or Mrs Trent?
- I had to dance with Garry.

Do you know Garry Benson?

(Violet) Don't go too far away!

-(Dermot) Claire!
- It's you!

- Would you like to dance, Mrs Trent?
- You called me Claire just then.

Did I? I'm sorry,
I do beg your pardon.

Please don't apologise.
After all, we are old friends.

I can't think where Jack has got to.
I was just looking for him.

Yes, please, I would like to dance.

Sir Alington returned home
at five-and-twenty to 11 .

Where had he been?

Dining with Mr and Mrs Jack Trent
at their house in South Street.

And he returned alone?

No, he was accompanied by his nephew,
Mr Dermot West.

But I'm sure...

Yes?

This is a terrible shock. I'm sorry.

Of course.
You were saying, you're sure...

They were having
some sort of argument.

Oh?

Sir Alington asked me
to bring two whiskey and sodas.

Very fond of a whiskey last thing, he is.

Er, was...

Mr Dermot said he would have one
before going to the Grafton Galleries,

That's a dancing establishment,

a night club in Wigmore Street,
not five minutes away.

I know where it is.

Oh, dear, this is very difficult, and
it is just a turn of phrase, isn't it?

Just tell me what happened.

Well, when I returned with the whiskies,
they were arguing, as I said,

and I heard Mr Dermot say, "You say
one word against her and I'll kill you."

Something like that.

I see.

I don't know to what young lady
he referred.

Young lady?

I assume so, but it was in the heat of
the moment. I mean, we do say things...

(sighs)
Sir Alington is dead, Mr, er, Johnson.

As no weapon was found we must
assume it is murder we are dealing with.

I cannot believe it of Mr Dermot.

What is his relationship
to Sir Alington?

Sir Alington was his uncle.

So you said. I mean, were they close?

Oh, yes. Mr Dermot
was Sir Alington's only living relative.

I see.

- You're tired?
- I... I want to say something to you.

Is there somewhere we can go and talk?
I... I want to speak to you.

Yes, of course. Erm...

Over there.

- It's nice here.
- Yes.

You.

If I can help... There's nothing
I wouldn't do for you, Claire.

Then go away. Don't see me. Leave us.

- Go? But why?
- I can't explain.

- You must.
- Oh, please do not make me.

I would not make you do anything
against your will.

Dear, dear Dermot.

There is something you wanted to say.
Don't send me away.

I must. You said you would do
anything for me. Is it so much to ask?

No. Not if it will bring you happiness.

Happiness?

Oh... You must go, because...

..because...

I cannot say it.

- I love you, Claire.
- No.

I have tried not to let this happen
because Jack is my friend,

but if I am the cause, if only in part,
of your distress, then I will go.

- But I will not stop loving you.
- Nor I you, my darling.

That is why we must part.

I think I knew but I didn't dare hope.
It is too late, my darling,for us.

- Not if we have courage.
- "We" do not come into this story.

There is something you do not know
which alters everything.

You mean, what my uncle
thinks he knows?

Please don't cry.
I can't bear to see it.

I'm here, I'm with you.
I will look after you.

I don't believe all that my uncle says.

I never dared hope you could care for
me. Now we will go away together.

No! Don't you see?
I couldn't love now. It would be ugly.

We cannot run away, not now.

I've tried to be brave and strong.
I've tried, but you make me weak.

Oh, please go. I'm trying to do what is
right. If you love me, I beg you, go.

- Claire...
- It is the only way for us.

Any other way would be unthinkable.
You cannot help me.

There is no future for us.

If I can ever be of any assistance...

Just go.

Mr West, come and dance with me.
I seem to have exhausted poor Garry.

- Bad luck, old thing.
- Come along!

Even an old poop
can manage one more foxtrot.

This isn't a dance marathon, Violet.

Coat for Mr West, please, Alice.

Hello, Dermot.

Sorry, old boy, I'm pushing off.
I'm not in the mood for dancing.

It's a rotten night out.
Here, let me help with that.

So you're leaving
poor old Violet pining?

I'm sorry, Jack,
I really don't feel like talking.

Well, Dermot,
at least you haven't got my worries.

Oh, seen Claire?

Yes, er...
Yes, she's in there somewhere.

Cab, sir?

- What is it, Guido?
- This gentleman's looking for Mr West.

He was in your party, I think.

He went home five or ten minutes ago.
Do I know you?

Inspector Verrall, Scotland Yard, sir.

- What has happened?
- We're looking for Mr Dermot West.

I have his address.
What's up, Inspector?

It's Sir Alington West.
I believe he dined with you.

- Has anything happened to him?
- I'm afraid he's dead, ma'am.

(dog barks in the distance)

How on earth...?
What the devil...?

(door bell rings)

(door bell rings insistently)

- Yes?
- Mr West?

- Mr West is not at home at present.
- I see.

- Can I be of any help?
- And you are?

Milson, sir, Mr West's man.

- May we come in?
- Well, I would prefer...

It's better than hanging about in
the corridor. On your way out, Milson?

- Just this minute got in, sir.
- Oh.

- Take a look around, Cawley.
- Right, sir.

- You don't mind?
- Do you have a warrant?

Soon get one.

- Just got in, you say?
- Yes.

I've been out celebrating
the parents' golden wedding.

- Oh, yes, very nice.
- What exactly is going on, Inspector?

- Oh, just a few enquiries, Mr...
- Milson. About what?

- When are you expecting Mr West back?
- Not for some considerable time, sir.

You would probably find him
at the Grafton Galleries.

Someone's been at the whiskey recently
and smoked a cigarette.

- (Verrall) While the cat's away!
- I don't know what you're implying.

- Of course not. Alright, Cawley.
- Aright, sir.

We've been to the Grafton.
He's already left.

Aren't you a little over:zealous?

Whatever my master is accused of
it cannot be serious.

- We just want to ask a few questions.
- About what?

The sudden and unexpected death
of his uncle, Sir Alington West.

What?

How?

- Inspector?
- Yes?

Can you come in here, sir?

It's been fired recently, sir.

Is this Mr West's revolver?

No. I mean... I don't know. Of course it
isn't. Mr West doesn't own a revolver.

Then how did it get
into his chest of drawers?

- I have no idea.
- Very loyal, Milson.

I suggest that your master's been home
and hidden it here.

If it's in his chest or drawers,
it's hardly hidden.

True.

Wait here, Cawley.
I'll get this down to the laboratory.

If Mr West returns,
you will apprehend him.

Very good, sir.

Inspector, how did my... my, er...
my master's uncle,

how did Sir AIington die?

One shot from a revolver
clean through theforehead.

I see.

I don't need to say this,
but you'II wait here with the constable

until your master returns
or is apprehended elsewhere.

Am I under arrest?

No, just helping the police
with their enquiries.

A bit of a shockfor you.

Yes, I, er... I can hardly believe it.

I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea.

Ah... Oh, yes, of course, sir.

Thank youfor that "sir".

You can never tell with some people,
you know.

Sir AIington's man actually heard
your master threaten to kill him.

Ah, yes, but that was...

I mean, er,
people say things, don't they?

Yes.

- Stillfoggy?
- Pretty thick.

Nice, Mayfair.

- Nice class of person.
- Oh, apparently not!

Oh...

Some of the very top people
commit murder, you know.

I was just going off duty
when this happened.

Oh, so, er...
you were expected home, were you?

Part of the hazards.

Is there anyone
you would care to telephone?

Who do you think I am?

Um... Well, I'm sure
Mr West wouldn't mind.

No. That's not what I meant.

If I could just call the station,

ask someone to take a message
round to the missus. She worries.

- The telephone is in the hall.
- I do know.

Bit of an expert at noting things.

Oh, thank you.

Siren)

- Old boy, it's me.
- Jack!

- The police are after you.
- They've already been.

- Damn! I wanted to get to you first.
- I gave them the slip but not for long.

Come on, then.

(Dermot)
Who could have done it, and why?

Why kill poor Alington and why plant the
gun on me? I don't understand any of it.

Nor do I, old son, but at least
being here will buy us some time.

- We'd better put our heads together.
- Yes.

Dear Jack,
where would I be without you?

- I'm just glad to help.
- You don't think I...?

Of course not, old chap.
That doesn't even need saying.

No. No, I do know.

Jack, I'm terribly afraid for all of us.
Where is Claire?

Claire? Oh she's gone home with Violet.
Very upset by it all.

Good old Violet will look after her.

- My God, I'm so terribly sorry.
- Sorry?

- Uncle Alington told me.
- Told you?

About Claire, about her condition.
I'm so desperately sorry.

I should have stayed and faced it out
with the police but I panicked.

For a terrible moment
I thought Claire...

Claire?

Yes. Don't you see? She would want
Alington dead because Alington knew.

Oh, my God, I can't even now
bring myself to believe it.

What is it, Jack?

That seance.

I was just remembering
that ridiculous seance.

"Don't go home. Don't go home."

Meant for Sir Alington, I suppose.

Or me. It would have been safer
for me not to have gone home.

Yes.

Dermot, old son,
I'm afraid you're done for.

- Jack, what are you doing?
- Ringing Scotland Yard, of course.

Tell them you're here
under lock and key.

The door's locked. You can't get away.

I have the key.
That other door leads to Claire's room

and I promise you it will be locked
on the other side.

I did not kill my uncle. You know that.

You probably suspect who did,
but this is no way to protect her.

I want to show you something.

She's afraid of me, you see.

Poor, beautiful Claire.
Been afraid of me for a long time.

That's why she sent for your uncle,
that famous helper of...

What is it Violet calls them?

Loonies.

Well, he won't be helping them
any more.

Look at it, Dermot.

Did you ever see
such a beautiful knife?

She always knows
when I'm thinking of it.

I'm saving it for her.

Not Claire, but you.

It was you
my uncle came to observe. You!

No! No, that knife isn't for you.

And contrary to what you might think,
this gun did not kill Alington.

But the one in your drawer did.

Both of you. Two birds.

What a damn clever plot.
You must admit it, old chap.

I took his key and your own. Slipped
away while I was parking the car.

First Alington...

..then on to your flat
and back to the dance.

So easy. I returned your key to you
when we said good night.

You didn't know.

But why? Why?

He wanted to shut me up.
Lock me away.

That's why he was here tonight.
But I'm not ill.

It's her.

She... wants you, you know?

But the law wouldn't let her have you.

If I'd been shut away,
she still wouldn't have been free.

But never mind, old chap,
I'm not mad, so the problem won't arise

and you are going to hang for the death
of your uncle. It's all so beautiful.

And that knife...

That knife is for her.

Later.

It's all so perfect.

Well, you must see how brilliant it is.
Well?

- That message was meant for you too.
- Message?

You shouldn't have come home either.
That was your mistake.

- You should've taken me somewhere else.
-(Laughs)

- Behind you, Jack.
- What?

Dermot!

- Keep her back, Inspector!
- I love you, Claire!

Call the ambulance!

(Dermot) You can't do it!

- No! Dermot!
-(groans)

Dermot! Dermot!

- Dermot...
- Mrs Trent...