All language subtitles for Rumpole s03e06 and the Last Resort.eng

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(Seaside organ plays
"I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside")

(Mother) Dennis!
(Father) Hey!

(Mother) Our mobile home!

- Open up!
- Sorry, we're closed!

- Frank Wilfred Armstrong?
- Yes.

Are you the proprietor
of Free As Air Holidays,

also known
as Sand Sun Mobile Homes?

Chairman of the Board
and Managing Director.

- You selling castles in Spain?
- We have reason to believe

a good number of your sunshine
mobile homes are non-existent,

or else they seem
to have vanished mysteriously.

Could I just phone my solicitor?

Plenty of time for that
down at the station.

Excuse me, could I?

Thank you!

- Thank you!
- How would you like the money, sir?

Preferably in enormous quantities.
(Laughs)

'Stupid thing to say. Now she'll
take my cheque off to the back

'and discover the extent
of the Rumpole debt.

'Why is she reading that thing
so attentively?

'The art of cheque cashing
is to appear totally unconcerned.'

Ah! How would I like it? Oh, er, just
as it comes, thank you, nothing special,

no doubloons or pieces of eight.

Just pour me a moderate measure
of the good old pound sterling.

Thank you!

'Now, the great thing is not to run.

'Walk casually.

'He even whistled
in a carefree manner.'

Good morning, Mr Rumpole!

'Medway the manager.
Should have made a dash for it.'

- Good morning to you, Medway!
- Paying in or drawing out?

Oh! Drawing out, I see.
Could you step into my office, sir?

Not now, got to get back to court.
Money brief, of course.

Just a moment of your time,
Mr Rumpole.

Gone over the limit
of our overdraft, haven't we?

My overdraft! Huh!

A flea bite compared to what
you're lending the Poles.

I don't think the Poles are making out
quite so many cheques

in favour of Jack Pommeroy
of Pommeroys Wine Bar.

Those are for the bare
necessities of life.

Now, look here, Medway, old fellow,
a man's got to live!

No "got to" about it.
Bound to come a time

when that may not be necessary,

not at the expense of the Fleet St
branch of United Metropolitan.

- "The bank with a friendly ear"?
- There comes a time, Mr Rumpole,

- when United Metropolitan goes deaf.
- Now, look here, Medway,

my overdraft is peanuts. It's laughable
compared to my outstanding fees!

Oh, they'll come in,
of course, they'll come in.

Do you know how long solicitors
keep us waiting for money?

One firm that hasn't paid me
for a private indecency

I did for them back in 1972,
no names, of course, but...

- Is that Mr Perivale Blythe?
- Well...

- Of Blythe, Winterbottom and Paisley?
- Yes, I believe that's him. Slow payer.

- The money's there, of course it's
there. - Is it, Mr Rumpole?

Yes... yes, I see. Thank you.

Talk to your solicitor, did you, sir?

Er, no. No, he... he just slipped out
of the office for a moment.

Hello there, Rumpole, how are you?

"Tired with all these,
for restful death I cry..."

What's all this talk of death?

You know young Archie, don't you?
Mr Justice Featherstone's nephew!

God, not another Featherstone! Will the
line stretch out to the crack of doom?

He'd like your advice
about starting out at the Bar.

- My advice is don't.
- Don't?

He'd love to get a seat
in our Chambers.

I've told him there's not the
accommodation available, not quite yet.

- Not quite yet?
- You can't stay in your room for ever.

The time's got to come
when you take things more easily.

The case of the vanishing umbrella
stand!

Henry, my umbrella stand's
disappeared!

It's most disturbing.
Institute a thorough search at once.

Oh, listen, there's something else...
No, hang on, I'm coming in.

Forget the brolly stand. How much does
Perivale Blythe owe me in fees?

�2,765.93p, Mr Rumpole.

Wealth undreamt of by my bank.
Stretching back a fair way in time?

Stretching back, Mr Rumpole, to the
indecency at Swansea in April 1973.

- You have been on to him?
- Almost daily.

What does the blighter have to say?

The last time his secretary
told us the cheque was in the post.

Ha ha ha! That old chestnut! Not true!

Unless it evaporated mysteriously
between here and Cheapside.

Get after this Blythe like a terrier!

Get your teeth into him and
don't let go until he disgorges the loot.

Is that a brief for me you're fingering?

Mr Myers brought it in.
A case at the Bailey.

God bless old Myersy.
A man who pays up from time to time.

What is it? Murder?
Robbery? Sudden death?

Sorry, Mr Rumpole, it would seem
to be about Sand Sun Mobile Homes.

Mr Perivale Blythe has slipped
out of the office.

(Second phone ringing)

I can only ask you
to call again later, please.

Yes, I'll tell him you rang.

Mr Rumpole's clerk.

My brother Fred and I was born
into the modern world,

and what is the name of the game
in the world today?

- "Space Invaders"!
- No, the name of the game

is leisure interests
and computer technology.

- Now, you won't believe this...
- Well, try me.

Our dad kept a fruit barrow
in the Shepherd's Bush market.

- Not incredible.
- Yes, indeed!

He earned a few bob
and when he died,

Fred and I, we divided the capital,
and Fred went into hardware.

Ironmongery?

No, Fred joined
the microchip revolution,

and, er, looking round your office today,

I doubt very much it's fully automated.

You have great delays
in sending out bills?

Huh! I sometimes think
my bills are sent out

by carrier pigeon with a broken wing
and no sense of direction.

Trust the computer,
you'll have more time leisure-wise,

- That is the...
...name of the game!

Yes indeed! That's why I saw my future
definitely in the leisure industry.

Sounds like a contradiction
in terms, doesn't it?

Who wants hotel expenses
these days?

Who needs porters, tips,
waiter service, all that hassle.

The future, as I see it,
lies in self-catering mobile homes

set in A3 and B1 popularity
mass-appeal holiday areas.

That is the vision,
and it's got me where I am today.

Out on bail, facing charges of fraud...
and fraudulent conversion?

- Mr Rumpole, I want you to believe
this. - Well, try me again.

I just don't understand what's going on,
and I say that you very, very frankly.

I was trying to run
a go-ahead service industry

geared to the needs of the '80s.

Now, what went wrong exactly?

I daresay a close examination
of the accounts will tell us.

That's why I asked you
to give Miss Allways a brief.

She has a remarkable head for figures.

And quite a figure for heads,
I imagine! (Sniggers)

Pardon me, Miss Allways. I think
I was out of place there, am I right?

Send the accounts as soon as possible.
There is spade work to be done.

This is, er,
where we're in difficulty.

- Surely not?
- The accounts were given

to Mr Armstrong's previous solicitor,
who acted for his father

back in the fruit barrow days, and acted

- until after the arrest.
- It's perfectly simple.

Get in touch with the former solicitors.

It's not as simple as that.
We've tried writing

and never get a reply to our letters,
and when we telephone,

well, the gentleman dealing
with the matter

always seems to have just slipped out.

- Really? What's the name of the firm?
- (Rumpole) Don't tell me.

- Blythe, Winterbottom and Paisley?
- Yes, this is it!

Erskine-Brown... Oh.

- J'accuse!
- What?

Umbrella-stand pincher!

My dear Horace,
that's a most serious allegation!

Stealing is a very serious crime.

Now, look here,
you don't need one in your room.

- Oh, really?
- You see only criminals,

men who hardly ever carry umbrellas.

I had a conference yesterday
with three solicitors, all with umbrellas.

That umbrella stand is a family
heirloom.

I inherited that from
She Who Must Be Obeyed's daddy,

the only useful thing
I got out of him and I prize it highly!

All right. All right, all right,
if that's the attitude, good night!

And keep your fingers off
my family furniture!

Henry, what's your poison?

A Cinzano Bianco, please,
Mr Rumpole, with lemonade.

- Oh dear! Di?
- The same please, Mr Rumpole.

- We used to have it in Lanzarote.
- Was it really?

We won't go too deeply into that.

Couple of Cinzano Biancos
with lemonade, please, Jack,

and a large cooking claret, and I'm sure
you'd be happy to cash a small cheque.

- Not exactly happy, Mr Rumpole.
- Oh, come on, Jack!

You've nothing to worry about.
You haven't lent money to the Poles?

This is a better bank than United
Metropolitan. Take one for yourself.

Thanks!

Now, Henry, this abominable Blythe,
he hasn't surfaced, has he,

- by any stretch of the imagination?
- No, not as yet, sir, but...

As yet! Lying in his hammock,
I suppose, on some South Sea Island

fondling some almond-eyed beauty

and turning our brief fees and
refreshers into iced champagne.

I've made enquiries around the Temple.

Mr Brushwood in Queen Elizabeth's
Buildings had the same problem.

Blythe owed well into four figures
and they couldn't ever find him.

- Old Tommy Brushwood's...
- No longer with us, I know that.

As soon as he heard he'd gone,
Blythe called on Mr Brushwood's widow

and got her some sort of release

for a percentage
of the sum outstanding.

She signed as executor, not
quite knowing the form, apparently.

But how did this blot on the landscape
Blythe manage to talk her into that?

Told her it would be less distressing
to get the estate cleared up quickly.

Scared her with a long expensive
dispute if she wanted the full amount.

- Cheers, Mr Rumpole.
- Yes, cheers ever so!

And he's done it before, I'm told.

Why hasn't this Blythe
been reported to the Law Society?

Why hasn't he been clapped in irons...

Oh, Jack, bless you,
very civil of you. Thank you very much.

And transported to the colonies?

All the clerks have thought
of reporting him, of course,

but if we did that we'd never get
our money now, would we?

Despite that appalling drink that you
affect, you have your head screwed on.

However, I have another solution.

Honestly? I'd be glad to hear it.

We need Blythe as a witness
in the Sand Sun Holiday case.

- R v Armstrong?
- This is it.

We'll get Newton the private dick
to find Blythe

and slap a subpoena on him.

If old Fig Newton can't find
the little horror, who can?

(Scottish accent)
There is a 10:45 to Penzance...

Yes, in a day or two.

Yes, thank you.

- Yes, can I help you?
- Er, if you'd be so good, yes.

- Um, is Mr Perivale Blythe in?
- Have you an appointment?

Um... Ah!

Newton. Ferdinand lan Gilmoure
Newton of Newton Investigations,

known in the profession as Fig Newton.
Er, Mr Blythe is expecting me.

- I see nothing in his diary.
- Must have slipped his memory.

Busy man. I'm sure Mr Blythe
can't remember everything.

He remembers if he's made
an appointment. Excuse me.

- Mr Blythe has slipped out.
- Yes, of course.

Well, I... I'll just wait
until he, um, slips back, shall I?

What are these?

- Bills. Can't you recognise them?
- Oh, yes, distressingly familiar.

Gas, electricity, rates, water rates.
We must cut down on these frivolities.

(Hilda) They've all gone red.

That's only last quarter's telephone bill.
We should lay that down for maturing.

You don't have to rush
into paying these.

Perivale Blythe hasn't paid me
for ten years!

Well, you'd better tell Mr Perivale Blythe

that the London Electricity Board
isn't as patient as you are.

Hilda, you know perfectly well
we can't sue anybody for our fees.

- I don't see why not?
- It wouldn't be gentlemanly.

It's against the traditions of the Bar.

I suppose the gentlemanly thing
is to sit here in the dark,

with the gas cut off, no telephone
and nasty looks from the butcher.

Well, you can sit here
and be gentlemanly on your own!

And take your feet off the sofa!

You'll have to go now. I'm locking up.

So I see.

I'm going away, Rumpole.

- Promises, promises.
- What did you say?

I... said, when from, missus?

Dodo's been asked to stay with a friend
in the Lake District, Pansy Rawlins,

who was at school with us,
if you remember.

No, I wasn't there at the time.

- Pansy has recently lost her husband.
- How careless of her.

It'll be a bachelor party. Of course,
when Dodo first mentioned it to me,

I told her I couldn't possibly leave you.

I'm prepared to make the supreme
sacrifice and let you go, my dear.

- Don't worry about me.
- I don't suppose I should unduly.

But you ought to worry about yourself.

You take my advice
and find this Colindale Blythe.

- Perivale.
- Wherever he lives, find him

and get him to pay you.
Make that your task while I'm away.

Keep your feet off the sofa.

(Laughter)

Hello, could I have
a bottle of Guinness, please?

Newton drew a blank. No sign of Blythe
at the flat in Dolphin Square

- or his office.
- Lord!

You can follow the secretary.
She goes dancing with her boyfriend.

- Report with some snapshots.
- All right, thanks.

- Blythe's essential.
- Of course.

We need more time
for Newton to make enquiries.

- Can't we ask for an adjournment?
- We can ask.

Surely, Mr Rumpole,
any reasonable judge would grant it?

Mr Rumpole, for the fifth time of asking,
I am not going to adjourn this case!

So far as I see, the defence
has had all the time in the world.

Your Lordship knows how difficult
it can be to trace a solicitor,

if Your Lordship remembers
his own days at the Bar.

Neither your so-called eloquence, nor
your alleged jokes will change my mind.

May I remind Your Lordship
that, for many years past,

my client's business life has been in the
hands of the elusive Mr Perivale Blythe.

Your client's business life,
such as it was, was in his own hands

and it's time he faced up
to his responsibilities.

This case will proceed without
further delay. That is my final decision!

If Your Lordship pleases!

You did your best, sir.

Good old Myersy. He always says that
when I fail dismally.

(Laughter heard from within court)

I'd like to ask you now about your
Cornish site for Free as Air Holidays.

Your Lordship has the photos
in exhibit three.

Thank you, Mr Ward-Webster.

Hardly looks like the Garden of Eden,
does it, members of the Jury?

(Laughter)

It appears to be next door
to an industrial tip.

(Laughter)

In the other direction,
there's a view of the sea.

What?

Oh! Yes, between the crane
and the second lorry.

(Laughter)

A great deal of our patrons' time
is spent on the beach.

Perhaps they want a quiet night?

(Laughter)

Yes. Carry on, Mr Ward-Webster.

Mr Armstrong, do you agree
that on no less than 50 occasions

holidays on the site in Cornwall
turned out to have been booked

in non-existent mobile homes?

Yes...

indeed, er...

And your firm was paid
large deposits for such holidays.

Well, this is it.

And on one occasion a mobile home
was removed from an unhappy mother

just as she was about to enter it.

Er... It was one of those things.

Instead of the mother
running away from home,

the home ran away from the mother.

(Laughter)

Oh, well done, Bull!
Quite the stand-up comic!

Letters of protest from the losers and
their legal advisors went unanswered.

If there were any complaints,

they should have been fed
through the computer.

Perhaps those people
would rather their money back

than their complaints
consumed by computer?

Quite frankly, Mr Ward-Webster,
the office at Free as Air Holidays Ltd

has the latest technology.

Pity it isn't also equipped with
a little old-fashioned plain dealing.

My Lord, I object!
That is for the Jury to decide.

Very well. Members of the Jury, you
will have heard Mr Rumpole's objection.

(Judge laughs)

- Now, shall we get on with the trial?
- Mr Armstrong, are you telling us

this is due
to inefficiencies of your office?

My office is not in the least inefficient.
My brother's business is in computers.

What is the relevance of that?

Here's Fig's report.
Some photographs, he said.

Look at that!

Myersy!

A remarkable resemblance
to our client, isn't it?

Ring Newton. See if he can get here
by the lunchtime adjournment.

- He's never seen our client, has he?
- No, he hasn't.

I asked the computer to do it.
We use modern methods.

It's very like him,
but not the same gentleman.

- What's your brother up to these days?
- He's in the Gulf, in Dubai, I believe.

He's developing
a computer centre there.

- Do you have a photograph of him?
- Yes, indeed I have.

It was taken the summer before last
in Marbella.

How about that?

That is the gentleman,
no doubt about it.

Fred's been dancing.

- How long has he been out in Dubai?
- Six months, yeah, all of six months.

Since before you were arrested?
I only ask

because Mr Newton saw him
in London two nights ago.

I don't know what you're getting at,

but I'm sure Fred would help
if at all possible.

- Have you quarrelled about anything?
- We had a little falling out perhaps,

when he wanted to buy my land
in Cornwall. I wasn't selling.

- Didn't he offer you enough money?
- An enormous amount.

- Stupid sort of price, I called it.
- (Rumpole) Well...

I suppose it was unbrotherly of me,
but I wanted to build up my empire.

Perhaps Fred wanted to build up his.

- You've got to find brother Fred.
- In Dubai?

I want a watch kept on the Free as Air
offices, not during business hours,

only late at night and early mornings.

You've got to lay hands on Blythe too.
You may have to go to Cornwall.

- You want all this done before 2:00?
- No, no, Myersy!

We'll get the Bull
to give us an adjournment,

or die in the attempt. Come on, Fiona!

So, what is the basis of this application,

which you're now making
for the eighth time?

- What is it?
- Ninth.

Thank you, Mason.
For the ninth time, Mr Rumpole!

The basis should be clear
even to Your Lordship.

It is vital that justice be done

to the gentleman
I have the honour to represent!

This case has been committed
for six months.

If Mr Blythe could have helped you,
he'd have come forward.

That is an entirely
unwarrantable assumption!

There may be all sorts
of reasons for his absence.

Seems to me you know
very little about this Mr Blythe.

May I ask, have you had proof
of his evidence?

- No.
- No!

- No, I don't.
- So, you have no idea

of what this Mr Blythe will say?

No, but I know what I'll ask him,
My Lord, and if he answers truthfully,

I have no doubt that my client
will be acquitted!

A pious hope!

Well, of course, if Your Lordship wishes
to exclude this vital evidence

and has no interest in doing justice
in this case, I have little more to say!

Well, I have! A lot more to say,
as you should know perfectly well.

Getting through the work of the Old
Bailey is a matter of public importance.

Oh, yes, much more important
than justice?

In my view, these constant applications
by the defence

are merely an attempt
to put off the evil hour

when the Jury has to bring in a verdict.

It is my job to see that justice
is done speedily.

Mr Rumpole, I believe
you have a taste for poetry?

You will no doubt remember
the quotation about the "law's delays"?

Yes, My Lord.
It comes in the same passage

which deals with "the insolence
of office". If I might say, My Lord...

Mr Rumpole, your application
for an adjournment is refused.

There is nothing you could say
that would persuade me to grant it.

- Nothing, My Lord?
- No, Mr Rumpole, absolutely nothing!

I will adjourn this case.

Send for Matron.

- Fiona...
- Yes, Rumpole?

- I can't breathe! Take me outside!
- Steady on!

No, it's all right,
I just want a breath,

I want to smell dear old
Ludgate Circus, that's all.

Go and look after the client.
Is your little runabout outside?

- I really don't...
- Take me out. I want a breath.

You don't want me to spend my last
moment outside Bullingham's court?

- They reckon it's a stroke.
- They may mention bail later.

How is he? How is Mr Rumpole?

Well, he can't go on for ever, can he?

Not like he's been doing.

- May be the best way out for him.
- My mother had a blessed release.

She'd just called "Bingo!"

When Matron got downstairs,
the old chap had gone already!

Rumpole? He can't do this to me!

I got my warehouse break-in
starting Thursday.

He wasn't old. How old was he?
Not old, really.

Probably the life he led.
During his last few years,

somebody was saying the other day,

he'd been surviving
almost entirely on claret...

Pommeroys' claret.

(Mason tuts)

I say, Mason, you don't
think he was drunk, do you?

Oh, no, no, Judge.
From what I hear it was pretty serious.

It crossed my mind he might have been
drunk. It was probably delirium.

Did you hear what he said to me
during the course of the argument?

- Not all of it, Judge.
- A fellow must be very far gone

to talk about the "insolence of office"
down at the Old Bailey.

Well, looks like an early afternoon.

- You won't be going on with the trial?
- No, it wouldn't be right.

One has to show a certain respect,
I suppose...

even for Rumpole.

I'll try and find where they've put him.
Do you wish to send flowers?

Oh, come on, Mason, there are limits.

Flowers will not be necessary.

- I shouldn't have brought you home.
- Oh, I couldn't stand hospital.

I couldn't bear all that snoring

and bed pans and piped wireless...
There we are.

Not to mention a complete lack
of medicinal claret. Ha ha!

Your wife's not here?

No, must've slipped out.
She'll be back directly.

- I... I think I'll just pop into bed.
- I'll give you a hand.

Er, no, no. Perhaps er,
perhaps you'd better not.

She Who Must Be Obeyed
is sure to stalk in.

She... she... Ha! She gets some
very strange ideas,

does She. Ah!

You'll really be all right?

Do you think about the hereafter?

Rumpole!

Oh... the hereafter will be all right.

Oh, Lord, until Ballard gets there!
He's sure to make it.

Go along now. No, really, go on.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

Ask for bail from the mad bull for Frank.

Oh, Lord, Bullingham will be turning up
in the hereafter too, sooner or later!

Yes, apply for bail, Fiona.

- I'II... I'll ring you later.
- Later, yes. Not too late.

The prosecution has no objection
to bail continuing on the same terms.

Bail? Yes, of course, Miss Allways,
by all means.

Yes, on the same terms.

- What is the news of Mr Rumpole?
- He is resting peacefully, My Lord.

Peacefully?

Ah, well, yes,
it comes to all of us in time.

- Nothing else for me this afternoon?
- Er, no, My Lord.

- No reply again.
- No reply from Rumpole's flat.

Probably no one at home.

That would be the natural assumption.

Well, we've got no reason to believe...

I agree. All we know is Rumpole
suffered a sort of stroke or seizure.

He often said that Judge Bullingham
had that effect on him.

And he's clearly been
taken somewhere.

I'd like a report from Allways.
Where is she?

R v Armstrong being adjourned, sir,

Miss Allways is travelling up
to Manchester to do a porn job.

A porn job! This is hardly the moment
for that sort of thing.

Mr Rumpole would want Chambers
to carry on, sir, as usual.

Poor old fellow.

There's one thing to be said
for him, he went in harness.

I don't think this is a matter
we should discuss in the Clerk's Room.

I shall call a Chambers meeting when
I have rather more detailed information.

Dianne, please! Didn't you hear
what I said to Mr Ballard?

Chambers must go on.
That would have been his wishes.

- (Telephone rings)
- Hello.

"Please let firm of Blythe, Winterbottom
and Paisley know sad news.

"Deeply regret Rumpole gone up
to a higher tribunal, signed Rumpole."

- Well, what is it, Henry?
- It's a telemessage, sir,

telegrams having been abolished.

I know it's a telemessage,
but the wording,

doesn't it strike you as being strange?

Mr Rumpole was always one
for his jokes, sir.

It caused us a good deal
of embarrassment.

This can't have been signed by
Rumpole, not in the circumstances.

In any interpretation, the word Rumpole,

being silent as far as sex is concerned,
must surely be referring to...

- (Both) Mrs Rumpole!
- That's what I assumed.

I can't get through to the Gloucester
Road flat on the telephone.

It seems there's a fault on the line.

- Have you tried calling round?
- I have, sir. No answer to my ring.

Well, it's a busy time in any family,
a busy and distressing time.

Doesn't it strike you
as being rather odd?

- Oh, just a bit, sir, yes.
- As Head of Chambers,

I should be first to be informed
of any decease among members.

- Am I not entitled to that?
- In the normal course of events, sir.

In the normal course of events,

but this makes no reference
to me, to his fellow members,

not to the court in which he was
appearing when he was stricken.

This firm of, er... er, Blythe,
Sidebottom and...

Winterbottom, sir, and Paisley.

Quite. Was it a firm to which
Rumpole was particularly attached?

Don't think so, Mr Ballard.
They owed him money.

They owed him money?
Strange, that's very strange.

From the way he was talking
the other morning,

I think the old fellow had a queer
premonition the end was pretty close.

(Jack) I've got about 23 of his cheques.

(Henry) My clerk's fees aren't up to
date. You'll miss him round here.

Of course it's true.
Everyone's talking about it!

Poor old boy!
He'd had a good innings, though?

I'm not sure how much of it was good.
The end itself made up for a great deal.

Of course, the end itself.

It means one's a chance of getting into
Uncle Guthrie's old Chambers,

continuing the family tradition.

As I told your uncle, the Judge,
I can't promise anything.

The whole matter will be discussed
at the Chambers meeting.

That telemessage was telephoned in
at 3:15 yesterday afternoon.

Bit rum, isn't it? What does he mean,
"higher tribunal"?

I have no doubt he means
that Great Court of Appeal

before which we must
all appear eventually.

I never got to the Court of Appeal.

Never had the brief
to go there, as a matter of fact.

Just as well.
I wouldn't have been up to it.

Knowing Rumpole, there must be
a joke there somewhere.

But this must have been sent
by Mrs Rumpole.

He's not in a position
to sign telemessages.

Not in a position?

Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, exactly!

Of course, this sad event will mean
some changes in Chambers.

So far as furniture's concerned, yes.
I don't suppose anyone will have

any use for the old umbrella stand
which stood in Rumpole's room?

- His umbrella stand, Erskine-Brown?
- Well, I happen to have conferences

from time to time
with a number of solicitors.

They have umbrellas...
So, if no one else wants it?

I don't think
there'll be exactly a stampede...

I was thinking... There ought to be
more work about?

- Hoskins?
- Well, I suppose Henry can hang on

to some of Rumpole's solicitors,
Myers and people like that.

Now the work may get
spread around a bit.

I'm not sure that I agree with Hoskins.

You think Miss Allways may get her
hands on his work? Where is she?

Still up in Manchester on the obscenity.

Obscenity! That's exactly what I mean.
Or rape, or indecent assault,

or possessing
house-breaking instruments.

This may be our opportunity,
sad as the occasion is, of course,

to improve the image of Chambers.

Do we really want dirty-book merchants
hanging around the Clerk's Room?

I think there's a great deal
in what Erskine-Brown says.

In my view, if you're not for moral
degenerates, you're against them.

I'd like to see more prosecution work.

You're certain of the money with
prosecutions. As a man with daughters.

There is a young man who's a certainty
for the Yard's list of prosecutors.

I've mentioned young Archie
Featherstone to you, Erskine-Brown?

The Judge's nephew.

Yes, well it may be
in the changed circumstances, er...

we may have a room
to offer Featherstone.

He won't be taking work from us?

In my opinion, he'll bring it in,
in the shape of prosecutions.

There are a few arrangements
to be discussed.

Arrangements! Yes, of course.

I hope "arrangements" doesn't mean
a crematorium.

There's something so depressing

about those railway lines
disappearing behind the velvet curtains.

- I prefer the old...
- Of course, it is something of an event.

I wonder if we'd get
the Temple Church?

I imagine not. Of course, we've seen
nothing in the "Times" obituaries.

He never got the cases
which make legal history.

I suppose there might be some sort
of memorial service in Pommeroys?

I think we should send
a modest floral tribute.

Henry could arrange that
out of expenses.

There is such a thing as the great
fraternity of the Bar. Everyone agreed?

(AIl) Agreed.

Now, in view of the fact
that at the eleventh hour,

he appeared to become reconciled to
the deeper realities of our brief life,

you may all care to stand for
a few minutes' silence in memory of...

Horace Rumpole.

Mrs Rumpole? Blythe, Perivale Blythe,
solicitor of the Supreme Court,

- as I mentioned on the telephone.
- Yes, do come in.

I felt I had to intrude,

even at this sad, sad moment,
Mrs Rumpole.

Not as myself, not even as
Blythe, Winterbottom and Paisley,

but as a representative, if I may say so,
of the entire legal profession.

Your husband was a very great
gentleman and a fine lawyer.

A fine lawyer? He never told me.

And a most persuasive advocate.

Oh, yes, he told me that.

We all join you in your grief
and I have to tell you this,

there are no smiling faces today
at Blythe, Winterbottom and Paisley.

- Thank you.
- Er, nor anywhere I suppose,

from Inner London to Acton
Magistrates.

He will be sorely missed.

I have to tell you what
will be sorely missed, Mr Blythe.

What, Mrs Rumpole?

All those fees that you owe him.

Since the indecency case,
I believe, in 1972.

Ah! You have heard a little about that?

- A great deal about it!
- A great deal of that money

hasn't been completely recovered
from the clients, not in full.

But I am here to settle up.

I imagine that you are the executor
of the late Mr Rumpole?

- Who else?
- And empowered to compromise.

In my experience, the bereaved only
want to get the estate settled quickly.

It's far less distressing, hopefully,

and no doubt the bereaved
would want cash in hand?

I'll tell you what this bereaved wants,
Mr Blythe.

Tell me, Mrs Rumpole.

�2,765.93p.

Well, quite the businesswoman,
Mrs Rumpole.

Would immediate payment of 25 per
cent be a nice little arrangement?

You won't want a long dispute
over the exact figure.

- Mr Blythe, I have to face the butcher!
- Well, of course!

And the water rates
and the London Electricity Board,

and the telephone was cut off
while I was away in the Lake District.

I can't offer them
a nice little arrangement, can I?

- Possibly not.
- I can offer you one, Perivale Blythe.

Well, that's... most obliging of you.

I will offer you this...

I will not report this conversation
to the Law Society,

although this year's president's father
was a close friend

of my father, Mr C H Wystan.

I will not take immediate steps
to have you struck off, Mr Blythe,

providing you sit there
and write out a cheque

for �2,765.93p...

in favour of Hilda Rumpole.

Most unfortunately forgotten my cheque
book. I shall slip one in the post.

Have a look in your briefcase,
Mr Blythe.

You'll find your chequebook there.

- (Doorbell rings)
- Oh, excuse me!

Oh, and don't try the window,
Mr Blythe,

it's really a great deal too far
for you to jump.

(Sighs)

Thank you, Mr Blythe, and now
there's a gentleman to see you.

Fig Newton!

But wh... whatever is this?

It's a subpoena, Mr Perivale Blythe.

They want you to give evidence
in a case down the Old Bailey.

They've restored R versus Armstrong
for this afternoon, Judge.

Armstrong? Who's taken over
from Rumpole?

I think Miss Allways is in court, Judge.

Miss Allways!

Bright girl, that.

Good-Iooking girl.

In all the circumstances, do you think it
at all appropriate

if I sent her down... a box of chocolates?

No, Judge, I don't think
it would be appropriate.

No, I suppose not.
It'd look well, however,

- if I said a few words about Rumpole.
- Yes, Judge, it would look very well.

Members of the Jury,
before we start this case,

there are one or two words
I want to say.

In our courts, friendships sometimes
spring up between judges and counsel,

between the Bench and the Bar.

We are not superior beings as judges,

we do not put on side.

We are the barristers' friends,

and one of my oldest friends
over the years

was Mr Horace Rumpole.

During the times he appeared
before me in many cases,

I can truthfully say there has
never been a cross word between us,

although we may have had
trivial disagreements over points of law.

No, we're all part

of that great happy family,
members of the Jury,

that is the Central Criminal Court.

And Mr Horace Rumpole
was one of our old stagers.

Not a leader, perhaps, not a general,

but one of the reliable, hard-working

and good-hearted old soldiers
of the line.

My Lord, I am deeply touched!

Mr Rumpole! Rumpole, I heard...

The report was greatly exaggerated,
I assure Your Lordship.

What a pleasure it is to resume
this case before Your Lordship.

Mason! What does this mean?

Quite honestly, Judge,
I haven't a clue!

And you wanted me to send flowers.

Mr Rumpole, have you an application?

No application, My Lord.
If you remember,

Your Lordship kindly
adjourned this case.

It has now been restored to your list.
Our enquiries are complete

and I shall call Mr Perivale Blythe.

- He's back?
- Went straight to the Old Bailey, sir.

- Miss Allways is with him.
- Henry...

Is it too late
to do something about the wreath?

Mr Blythe, after the death of their father,

did you continue to act
for the brothers Armstrong,

- my client and his brother Frederick?
- Yes, I did.

And did Frederick supply and install the
computers in his brother's holiday firm?

- I believe he did.
- Yes.

Will you take the photographs of the
Cornish holiday site, please, Mr Blythe?

- The industrial area, Mr Rumpole.
- Exactly, My Lord.

Do you know what that industry is,
Mr Blythe?

- Tin mines, My Lord, I rather think.
- You think? You know, don't you?

Did you not visit that site on behalf
of your client, Frederick?

I did. He was anxious
to buy his brother Frank's site.

Yes! He'd had it privately prospected
and knew tin was to be found on it.

I believe so. Of course, I don't believe
he told his brother that.

I don't believe he did. And when
his brother refused to sell,

did he not take every step
to ruin his brother's business?

Presumably by interfering with
the computers he had installed,

so that they gave
misleading information,

booked non-existent holiday homes

and gave false instructions
for caravans to be towed.

Oh, I never approved of that, My Lord.

I am an Officer of the Court.
I would have no part of it.

Even though you knew about it?
Come along, Mr Blythe,

you must have known to disapprove.

I take the gravest objection
to this line of questioning.

Oh, only a trivial objection,
My Lord, surely?

Your Lordship told the jury
that we only have trivial disagreements.

You are presenting
an entirely new case to this witness,

as far as I can see, without evidence.

Oh, there will be evidence, My Lord.

My learned friend won't give
the evidence?

I hope my learned friend does not wish
to withhold from the jury

that Detective Inspector Limmeridge

arrested Mr Frederick Armstrong
early this morning,

after he'd entered his brother's office
and was reprogramming his computers.

There will be a charge of perverting
the course of justice.

- Is this true, Mr Ward-Webster?
- So I understand, My Lord.

I shall recall the detective inspector,
My Lord, as a witness for the defence.

Thank you, Mr Blythe!

I don't understand
why you were startled.

Isn't there a Biblical precedence?

Rumpole! I suppose you're very proud
of yourself?

It wasn't a bad win, was it?

Got the Sand Sun Mobile Homes
owner away free.

Made the world safe
for ghastly holidays.

I'm not referring to your case.

You caused us all, the great fraternity
of the Bar, unnecessary grief!

Oh, come off it, old darling!

You couldn't wait to re-let my room
to young Archie Featherstone.

Within a month
"or ere those shoes were old"

with which you followed Rumpole's
body "like Niobe, all tears".

We had to plan for the future,
distressed as we were.

Deeply distressed, my eye!

Didn't Uncle Tom suggest a memorial
service in Pommeroys Wine Bar?

I never approved of that.

Not a bad idea, actually,

now I'm back in the funds again.
Why don't I invite you all?

And I thought you'd finally found faith!

That's what I shall never forgive.

We are rich beyond
the dreams of avarice!

She Who Must Be Obeyed
has the cheque in her handbag.

It was very naughty of Rumpole,

but it was the only way to get his fees
from that appalling Mr Perivale Blythe.

- You were a party to this conspiracy?
- Oh, yes!

I'll have you after my job, Mrs Rumpole.

I couldn't get Blythe to pay up,
not till we got this idea.

(Fiona) He'd never die
in the middle of a case!

It was the same
when we thought he'd retired.

He kept popping back
like a bloody opera singer!

(Loud knocking)

Learned friends, since none of you
seem inclined,

it falls to me to say a few words.

After the sad news that poor old
Rumpole had kicked the bucket,

it must have come
as a pleasure to learn

that he had simply turned a little pale.

When he was deceased,
he was constantly in your thoughts.

Some of you wanted his room. Some of
you wanted his work. Someone, I know,

couldn't wait to get his covetous fingers
on his umbrella stand.

But be that as it may,
you are all cordially invited

to drink to his long life
and continued success

in a glass of Chateau
Thames Embankment. Oh, Jack!

- To Rumpole!
- To his positively last reappearance!

He looks so much better since he died,
don't you think?

- To the great fraternity of the Bar!
- (Everyone) Hear, hear!

May it rest in peace!

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