All language subtitles for Father Brown S07E05

BIRDS CHIRP, DUCKS QUACK

BRAKES SQUEAK

CHAINS JANGLE

GATE CREAKS

Anyone at home?

CLOCK TICKS

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH

Bloomin' Nora!
Where'd you come from?

The Presbytery.

Before that, a rather
delicious afternoon tea with

Mr and Mrs Granforth,
although I confess to eating

more than one custard tart.

I don't know what you think
you're doing here,

but this is private property.
I know.

I saw the sign.

However, I was invited.

By telephone,
to hear confession.

I thought, perhaps, someone
had taken up residence.

Hardly likely,
considering what happened here.

Mm.

They give you a name,
this mysterious penitent of yours?

Not something I would
usually divulge.

Well, that's a pity, because
I also received a phone call.

Anonymous.

Asked me to come here.

Claimed he had new information
about the Haggard murders.

How intriguing!

A load of horse manure, more like.

I suspected it was
a hoax at the time.

Now I see you here,
I'm certain of it.

I'm off home before
my chops get cold!

Should we not wait?

Perhaps our mutual friend
has merely been delayed.

Take a look around you, Padre.

No-one's set foot in here for
years.

But stay if you wish.

You can entertain the spiders
with your latest sermon.

If no-one's been here for years,
Inspector, who wound the clock?

TELEPHONE RINGS

BIRDS CHIRP, COCK CROWS

Mornin'!

Guess I'm not the only sinner
to 'ave caught a few winks

in the shadow of angels!

All right there, lad?

Right, set up a cordon.

I don't want members of the public
traipsing all over the churchyard.

Yes, sir. Constable Hart?

Pop over to Inspector Mallory's.

I think he might have overslept.

Tell him we need him here
straight away. Yes, sir.

You don't expect it, do you?
Right on God's doorstep.

Have you any idea who he was?

Not yet.

His face rings a bell, mind,

but I just can't put my finger
on where I might've seen him.

Do you know what upsets me the most?
It was so preventable.

Any vagrant in such dire need
of help had only to knock at the

Presbytery door and
they'd have been offered a nice,

hot bowl of soup at the very least.

Talking of vagrants,
guess who found him.

May I say you're lookin'
as comely as the cornflowers

on the common, Mrs McCarthy.

Mr Slow.

I suspect the deceased gentleman's
problems went beyond where

his next meal was coming from.

We found an empty bottle
of barbiturates by the body.

He poisoned himself?
And on consecrated ground!

We mustn't jump to conclusions,
Mrs McCarthy.

Could've been an
accidental overdose.

Judging by the cut of him,
I'll wager it was the final,

foolish act of a desperate man.

Mrs M! I thought you you'd gone
to find Father Brown?

Well, that's just it.

He wasn't in his study, I couldn't
find him anywhere else either.

That's odd.

We've had a few problems
locating Inspector Mallory too.

No-one's seen him all morning.

No doubt he's visiting
one of his flock.

Or perhaps he's gone fishing.

Gone fishing?!

Father Brown wouldn't know one end
of the fishing rod from the other.

Still, it's very unlike him
to disappear like that

without saying something to me
first.

According to this,
he has no appointments this morning,

and last entry was yesterday.

"Noon. Confession. Spencer H."

That is Father Brown's
private diary!

Who's Spencer H?

I have absolutely no idea.

I can't recall anyone in Kembleford
with the Christian name of Spencer.

Well, perhaps he went to find
this Spencer fellow,

it got late,

so they offered Father Brown
a bed for the night

and he's still there
tucking into breakfast.

Mystery solved.

Except, clever clogs,
that appointment was for noon.

Now, unless Father Brown was giving
swift to Jack the Ripper,

it wouldn't have taken
until nightfall, would it?

Well, I still think we should find
this Spencer chap and ask him

if Father Brown mentioned
where he was headed.

And how exactly do you
propose we do that?

Well, you have access to the church
register, haven't you?

What a waste of time!

Who knew Kembleford had such a
disconcerting deficit of Spencers?

Mrs McCarthy!
I'm sorry, Mr Slow.

I 'eard you was on the
hunt for the good Father?

Do you know where he is?

Well, not as such.

Then, we must bid you good day.

Unless you know anyone called
Spencer who has a surname

beginning with H?
I knew a Spencer in the Army.

Corporal in the Royal Engineers.

But he was a Pratt.

I mean, his surname was Pratt,
which doesn't begin...

Goodbye, Mr Slow.

But I did see 'im, the Father.

Where?

Here.

Yesterday, late afternoon.
Six-ish.

No clue where 'e was trundlin'
off to, mind.

BICYCLE BELL TINGS
Evenin', Father!

I remember cos he
usually stops for a chat,

only he looked like
he was in a hurry.

Anyway, I'm off to the Red Lion, but
if I sees 'im, I'll come find you.

Most kind.

Only man of the cloth worth
the leather of my shoe!

So, perhaps this confession
was postponed

until later in the evening.

Don't suppose Father Brown
has turned up yet?

Sadly not.

Only, according to his wife,

Inspector Mallory didn't make it
home last night.

Desk Sergeant said the Inspector
got a call around six.

Sir?

Inspector Mallory speaking.

Actually, I was just on my way home,
so if this could wait...

Is that so?

Why don't you come
to the station and...

All right, calm down.

Where do you want to meet?

Give me 20 minutes.

I need the file on the Haggard
murders, quick as you can.

Left soon afterwards.

That was the last time anyone
saw him.

Sounds like he was looking
into that old Haggard case.

That poor couple murdered
in their bed? Exactly.

George and Jasmin Haggard?

That's them. I thought that
was before your time here?

It was.

Isn't that where Blind 'Arry
found the body this morning?

I suppose I should've spotted that.

You won't tell the Inspector,
will you?

Oh, your secret is safe with us,
Sergeant.

Horrible business, it was, horrible.

My kids still won't go down the lane
past Spencer Hall.

Spencer Hall?

The Haggards' house,
just outside of town.

Here.

And the murderer's name
was Edmund Noon?

That's right.
He was never caught.

It was like he vanished
into thin air.

So Father Brown wasn't going to meet
Spencer H for confession at noon.

He was going to Spencer Hall to hear
the confession of Edmund Noon,

a known murderer!

And no-one has seen him since!

Police surgeon reckons
the body fits the age

and physical description
of Edmund Noon.

All right, so...

Wracked with guilt, Edmund Noon
returns to Kembleford, confesses,

seeks forgiveness
at the Haggards' grave,

and then kills himself.

But that still doesn't explain
what has happened to Father Brown!

Or Inspector Mallory.

Or Inspector Mallory.

I reckon I should go to
Spencer Hall, have a peek around,

see what I can find.
Great! We'll come with you.

I don't think that's a very good...

We'll take my car.
It'll be quicker.

Well, it makes sense, I suppose.

Between you and me, I've always
dreamed of taking her for a spin.

I beg your pardon!

I meant the car!

This is strange.

Why? I thought you said
nobody was living here.

Well, not since the murders,
but this padlock looks brand-new.

Not to worry,
we can climb over the wall.

Penelope,
couldn't you just pick the lock?

Firstly, that lock is a little
beyond my level of expertise

and, secondly, there are certain
things a lady shouldn't do

in front of an officer of the law.

But I'm sure the Sergeant
will give you a leg-up!

Anyone here?

It don't think anyone's been here
in a long time.

I'm not so sure.

Look at this grass.

This footprint can't be more
than a day old.

I reckon we should have
a proper look around.

So what do we know about this
Edmund Noon character, anyway?

Besides him being
a double-murderer.

As far as I can recall,
he was a schoolteacher

from Hambleston, I think.

That's right.

He got a job improving
the young Mrs Haggard's education.

Only thing is, he fell for her.

"We saw it...in each other's...eye,

"and wished...in every...

"..every half-breathed sigh...
to speak, but did not.

"She felt..."

Go on.

You're doing very well.

"She felt...

"my lips'...impassioned touch.

"Twas the first time
I dared so much.

"And yet she chid not."

Unfortunately, George Haggard
discovered that Edmund had

feelings for his young wife.

So what did he do?

Mr Haggard told Jasmin she was
never to see Edmund again.

Nothing has happened!

Yet! I know men like him.

It's only a matter of time!

I would never betray you.

I wish I could believe that.

What can I do to convince
you that...?

You can tell him he is
no longer welcome here!

But my lessons!
Forget your lessons!

When I found you, your village was
burning, your parents were dead.

You were half-starved. Remember?

And whose fault was that?

What did you say?

It was your country!
Your politicians!

Your soldiers!

I saved your life! Is that not
enough to earn some obedience?!

When Edmund Noon got the telephone
call informing him he was

no longer welcome at the house,

by all accounts,
he flew into a jealous rage,

and came straight here and then he,

well, you both know
the end of that sad story.

Were there any witnesses?

The housekeeper.

Patricia Wintham.

Mr Haggard! It's Mrs Wintham!

I was just going to give your
mirrors a wipe. You in there?

SHE GASPS AND SCREAMS

By the time we got here to arrest Mr
Noon, he'd already gone on the run.

But we found the gun dumped
in a ditch near his house.

Look! Look at this.

Housekeeping services.

"Mrs Wintham, Priory Lane,
Kembleford."

So the Haggards got their
housekeeper from the local rag.

That is last week's paper.

Whoever circled that advertisement,
it certainly wasn't the Haggards.

Somebody was looking for her.
Exactly.

Maybe this Edmund Noon blamed the
housekeeper for what happened?

After all, it sounds like she was
the one that spilled the beans

to the husband.

Not that I'm saying
it was her fault.

That would be mere speculation,
gossip, if you like.

Let's get her side of the story
before we jump to conclusions,

shall we?

Stay here.

Oh, dear.

It's not exactly
a good advertisement

for her housekeeping skills!

Looks like we've now got
three missing persons.

Sergeant, we have just spoken
to Mrs Wintham's neighbours.

She hasn't been seen
for a couple of days.

Perhaps Father Brown
discovered she was missing

and went to look for her.

There's something else
you should know.

One of my constables
just told me that, last week,

Patricia Wintham telephoned
the police station.

She'd received a threatening letter.

The Desk Sergeant on duty convinced
her it was probably a prank

but then...

..we found this in her bedroom.

If it is from Edmund Noon, you're
probably right, Mrs McCarthy.

He came back to Kembleford
with a score to settle.

"Death's icy touch lies in store."

Inspector Mallory speaking.

Death's icy what?

You heard.

Who is this?

Haven't you figured it out yet?

Noon?

You killed the love of my life.

Now it's your turn to suffer.

Wait a minute, lad.

You're the murderer here, not me!

I haven't killed anyone.
Yet.

So those bullet-holes
spontaneously erupted

in Mr and Mrs Haggard, did they?

They were already dead
when I got there.

Jasmin called me.

She was terrified.

It's me. He knows. That evil-minded
housekeeper told him.

Please, you've got to come.

We'll go away somewhere.
I love you!

I went to the house to protect
Jasmin, not to kill her.

I got there as fast as I could,
but I was too late.

Jasmin?

Jasmin?

It's me, Edmund.

Hey.

Jasmin?

Open your eyes!

Open your eyes, Jasmin!

Mr Haggard? It's Mrs Wintham.

I was going to give your mirrors
a wipe down. You in there?

I knew what it looked like, I knew
that nobody would ever believe me,

so I ran.

I've spent the last two years
on the run,

moving from place to place,
always looking over my shoulder.

I'm not doing it any more.

It's time for...

Resolution.

Don't you mean revenge?

Oh, Father, you made it.

Yes, I suppose I do mean revenge.

Against whom?

George Haggard may have robbed me
of the chance to kill him, but at

least I can punish those
who contributed to Jasmin's death.

Including both of you.

It's got nothing to do with me!

You're the Inspector, aren't you?

According to the newspapers,
you ignored reports of a woman's

cries coming from Spencer Hall
on the night of the murder.

Said it wasn't your job to
interfere in domestic disputes!

I wasn't even in
Kembleford back then!

Must have been one of my
predecessors so...

That makes no difference.

The police left her to die.

The police will pay.

As for you, Father, I read
all about the diary they found.

What diary?

Mr Haggard's.

He wrote of visiting his priest
for confession that very morning,

sharing his doubts
about his wife's fidelity.

Even if that were true,
I don't see how I...

You could have warned her
of her husband's anger, but instead

you did nothing while
he went home and killed her!

Mr Noon, I understand you have
suffered a terrible loss, but...

You understand nothing!

But to prove I am no monster,

I'll give you a chance
to redeem yourselves.

We're going to play a game.

Now, I've captured Patricia Wintham
and I've hidden her somewhere

within the boundaries
of Spencer Hall.

Find her before sundown
and I'll let you live.

But if you fail, or call for help,
or try to leave the grounds...

..I'll kill you all.

We'd better start looking
for Mrs Wintham.

No luck.

I've searched everywhere,
the basement, the attic,

and you're sat on your backside.

"Death's icy touch lies in store."

That's what the toe-rag
said on the phone.

It must mean something.

It means somebody's in for it.

And I'm starting to worry
it might be us!

I think he's given us a clue.

And why would he do that?

As he said, it's a game.
Of sorts.

I'm more of a gin rummy man myself.

"Lies in store."

Perhaps he's referring
to an outbuilding within the

boundaries of Spencer Hall.

Like a shed, you mean? Yes.

Well, let's split up.
It'll be quicker.

Righty-ho, Inspector.

And that way, I can get
some peace and quiet.

CLATTER
Mrs Wintham?

Pigeons!

This is pointless.

I should call the station, round up
two dozen men and we'll tear

this place apart until we find her.

What about Noon's threat to kill
Mrs Wintham if we do?

Not to mention us.

If he thinks this is a game,

what's to say she isn't dead already
and he's just playing with us?!

Humbug? It will help.

How will a boiled sweet
possibly help?

A sense of comfort combined with
a sugary stimulation to the brain.

No, thank you.

We're running out of time,
it's nearly sundown.

I've had enough of this.
I'm calling for back-up!

Inspector.

What's down there?

Some sort of secret tunnel, maybe.

Actually, I think
it's a disused ice house.

Death's icy touch!
Indeed.

After you.

Let his light shine in the darkness.

Thank you, Inspector.

Well?
Mrs Wintham?!

Thank goodness for that.

Let's get her out of here.

Oi!

We had a deal!

I said that if you found her,
I wouldn't kill you.

I didn't say I'd let you go.

We're all mortal, of course.

Who knows how long
any of us have left?

Mr Noon, please, we cannot imagine
what you've been through, but...

Then, try harder.

No-one will find you here.

You can spend your last few hours
scrabbling around in the dark,

thinking about what you did.

Noon! Come back here!

HE BANGS DOOR
Noon!

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry, my love.

That I didn't get there sooner,
that I couldn't stop him.

But it's all over now.

All of it.

We brought in Edmund Noon's mother.

She's made a positive
identification on the body.

And you still think
it was a suicide?

There were no signs of a struggle.

And his prints were the
only ones on the bottle.

Shouldn't our priority be finding
Father Brown and Mrs Wintham?

Yes, yes, and Inspector Mallory.

Yes.

Edmund Noon was clearly a very
dangerous man and we have

good reason to believe that he was
in contact with all three

before their disappearance.

So I think we should go back to
Spencer Hall and look for clues.

Yes, but the thing is,
it's a police matter so...

Oh, don't be obtuse.

You know perfectly well
that you're stuck with us,

so you may as well embrace it.

I don't suppose it matters if we
have two more pairs of eyes

on the case.
That's the spirit!

Mr Slow!
Might I have a word?

My ears and heart are yours
in eternum, Mrs McCarthy.

Yes, well, be that as it may.

Would you be able to keep
an eye out for Father Brown

in case he turns up?
He's still missing?

Yes, yes, I'm afraid he is.

He's got himself stuck somewhere,
I reckon.

Some nippers locked me
in my outhouse once.

I was in there for three days.

That's terrible! You poor thing!

Weren't so bad.

Like being in my dugout in Flanders,
only without the whizz-bangs.

So you just want me to sit here
and wait for him in case

he comes cycling by? Exactly.

For you, Mrs McCarthy,
I'd undertake the labours of

Hercules and ask only
for a smile on yer face.

I insist. Oh.

Well, in that case.

Been meaning to sew up that 'ole!

So what happens
if I see the good Father?

You tell him that we've gone to
Spencer Hall to look for him.

Tough job...

..but...

..some blighter's gotta do it.

You all right, Miss?
It's my fault.

Don't talk soft.

You didn't lock us in here.

No, but I told Mr Haggard
about Edmund and Jasmin.

And if I hadn't,
they'd still be alive.

So why did you tell him?

I was protecting Edmund.

Protecting him?

He was going to throw his life away
for that foolish girl.

And you didn't want him
running away with her,

because you had feelings for him?
I know!

I'm an idiot, I know, and now we
will all pay for my petty jealousy.

You never know.
Maybe he'll come back, let us go.

It's a game, like you said, Padre.

Edmund told me that,
when this was done,

he was going to be with Jasmin.

He's not coming back.

Then I will pray for his poor,
tormented soul.

It's our souls I'm worried about.

I'm sure there are people
looking for us.

And how exactly will they track us
down to this hole in the ground?

We could scream blue murder till
Judgment Day and nobody would hear!

"And I will lead the blind in the
ways which they know not,

"and in the paths which they were
ignorant of, I will make them walk.

"I will make darkness
light before them,

"and crooked things straight."

Anything?
Not a trace. Me neither.

Well, what do we do now?

That muddy footprint you found.

That wouldn't have come from someone
walking down a gravel driveway,

would it? The gardens!

I don't feel well.

So tired.

Miss?

Do you think he drugged her?

Possibly.

But that door would have been
designed to keep out warm air

during the summer months.

Are you saying
we're running out of oxygen?

How long?

Hard to say, but if Mrs Wintham
is already showing symptoms...

Typical!

I've only just renewed my membership
at the golf club.

Any ideas?

Maybe we could dig our way out?

These walls are too thick.

We would waste what little air
we have left.

No, our only choice is to wait and
have faith that God will deliver us.

That would be the same God that
landed us here in the first place?

Perhaps he thought it would be
an opportunity for us

to reconcile our differences.

Tell him from me he's going
to be sorely disappointed!

Where's Penelope?

Still checking the greenhouse,
I think.

Look! I found this dumped behind
the compost heap.

But no sign of its owner,
I'm guessing?

Noon must have taken them
somewhere else?

He would have needed a vehicle,

and I didn't spot any tyre
tracks on that driveway.

Look.

I'd recognise
these humbugs anywhere.

They're from the sweet shop
on Hope Street.

Mrs Penny makes them herself.
So?

I gave Father Brown a packet
only two days ago.

It was a little thank-you
for his help with my WI talk.

Oh, look!

Well, I don't think he liked them
very much.

They are his favourites,
I can assure you!

Well, in that case...

Ah! Another one!
It's a trail of breadcrumbs.

Father Brown must've suspected
something might happen to him.

We'd better find out where they lead
before it's too late!

The Communion wine? You sure?
Very decent of you!

I'd have only nabbed a bottle
or two, honest.

Wait a minute.

Isn't this the bit where you come up
with some ingenious plan

to get us out of here?

Sorry to disappoint.

In that case, Padre...

..about what you said earlier -

reconciling differences,
and all that.

I know that you and I

haven't always sung from the
same hymn sheet, as it were.

And I've said things...

..behind your back...

and to your face, for that matter.

Things that weren't always
entirely complimentary.

I just want you to know that...

..I meant every bloomin' word!

We've looked everywhere,
the trail's gone cold.

Well, we can't just give up.

There's one!

Well done, Mrs McCarthy.

What do you have in your mouth?
Nothing.

Have you been eating the humbugs?
Just the one.

Words fail me, Sergeant.

What's that down there?

Oh, I think it's an ice-house,
we've got one at Montague.

Aunt Fliss keeps her champagne
in it.

That is, until I found the key.

You don't think that they've...

Anyone in there?

Inspector?

Father? Can you hear us?

There's no-one there.

You were right, Penelope - Noon must
have moved them somewhere else.

Then I suggest we return
to the police station,

put out an official alert.

What's HE doing here?
Mrs McCarthy?

So much for keeping an eye out
for Father Brown!

I have a good mind to ask
for my money back.

Don't you be getting yerself
in a tizzle, Mrs McCarthy.

I only left my post because
you three traipsed off to this

fine abode, but left the key on the
blessed soil of St Mary's.

The key? What? I have no idea what
you are talking about.

Wait, you found a key?

Right next to where the lad's body
was found.

Got it right here. Oh.

At least I did.

Must've slipped through that 'ole.

I despair of you,
Harold Slow, I truly do!

Father! Come on, answer me!

Bunty? Is that you?

Tell us how we can get you out
of there? The key.

We might have a problem there,
Father.

I am so sorry, Father.

I've let you down.

Harold! My old friend.

Harold!

Look in the workshop!

Be quick.

HE HYPERVENTILATES

Workshop? What workshop?

Father! Father, stay awake!

Maybe there's a spare key in the
workshop.

I'll go with Harold to check.

No. No.
You stay with Father Brown.

Fancy a bit of my company, Mrs M?

Somebody needs to keep an eye
on you!

SHE SIGHS
It must be here somewhere.

Harold Slow,
would you at least make an effort?!

They call me Blind 'Arry
cos of what the gas did to my eyes.

Oh, there was me thinking it's
because you're always blind drunk.

That too. So the Father wouldn't
have sent me here

to hunt for a key.

He'd have sent one of you lot,
wouldn't he?

Well, you're here now, so could you
please help me look?

No, I'm thinking something
different, see.

I'm thinking he sent me here cos
he knows I was a sapper in the war.

What are you gibbering on about now?

Means I know how to blow stuff up.

I just want to say, for the record,
I think this is a terrible idea,

It'll be a miracle if that man
doesn't blow us all to smithereens -

Father Brown
and Inspector Mallory included.

Come now, Mrs McCarthy.

If Father Brown has taught me
one thing,

it's that we should believe
in miracles.

You might wanna cover yer...
EXPLOSION

EXPLOSION

SINGLE HIGH-PITCHED TONE

TONE FADES

BIRDSONG

HE LAUGHS

FOOTSTEPS

Mother, is that you?

It's only me, Inspector. Only me.

HEAVY BREATHING

Father, please. Wake up.

Slap him.

I beg your pardon? Slap him!

I will NOT slap a priest!
Fine, then - I'll do it.

SHE INHALES
I can't do it!

You don't think that he's...?

SHE SIGHS

Oh, for heaven's sake, Father!
Enough of this silliness.

We need you to wake up!

HE GASPS

Oh!

HE GASPS

Are you sure you won't stay?

There's plenty to go around.

I should be getting back
to the family. Same here.

And, to be honest, I think
Father Brown and I have spent more

than enough time
in each other's company for one day.

The Sergeant and I just wanted
to stop by and...you know.

You are most welcome, Inspector.

Thank goodness we got you out
of there in the nick of time.

Oh, now, that reminds me.
I must go to the sweet shop in

Kembleford tomorrow
and replace those humbugs.

How is Mrs Wintham?

They're keeping her at Cottage
Hospital for tonight.

Doctors seem confident she'll make
a full recovery.

Well, come along, Sergeant.

Let's leave these good people
to their food.

Right you are, sir.

Harold! What a pleasant surprise.

I was invited to join you for
a spot of hotpot.

Don't look at me.

Well, I thought it'd be a nice way
of saying thank you.

He did, after all, save the day.

For you, Mrs McCarthy.

Don't worry, I didn't pinch them
from the churchyard.

They're from the meadow
behind my barn.

They are delightful, Mr Slow.
Now, please, make yourself at home.

Wonders never cease.

I thought it was the Christian thing
to do.

Quite right. Now, tell me,
will it be a summer wedding?

SHE EXHALES

Bless us, O Lord,
and these Thy gifts

which of Thy bounty we are about
to receive through Christ our Lord.

Amen. Amen.

Hah!